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RXLATINO  HER  HISTORY  TO  THE  AUTHOR. 


LIFE 


OF 


MARY    JEMISON: 


DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 


By  JAMES  E.  SEAVER. 


FOURTH     EDITION, 

WITH  GEOGRAPHICAL  AND  EXPLANATORY  NOTES 


NEW  YORK  AND  AUBURN: 

MILLER,   ORTON   &   MULLIGAN. 

ROCHESTER:   D.   M.    DEWEY. 

1856. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1856, 

By  D.  M.  DEWEY, 

In  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Northern  District  of 

New  York. 


C.  E.  FELTON, 
STEREOTYPER, .  .  BUFFALO. 


6 


LIFE  OF  MARY  JEMISON, 

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 
THE  WHITE  WOMAN  OF  THE  GENESEE. 


rUBLISHEK'S  NOTE. 


The  life  of  Mary  Jemison  was  one  of  singular  vicis- 
situde and  trial.  Taken  captive  at  the  early  age  of  thir- 
teen years,  and  trained  in  the  wilderness  to  the  ordinary 
duties  of  the  Indian  female,  she  became  imbued  with  their 
sentiments,  and  transformed  essentially  into  one  of  their 
number.  Born  on  the  sea,  as  it  were  the  child  of  accident, 
made  an  orphan  by  the  tomahawk  of  the  Red  man,  it  was 
her  sad  destiny  to  become  lost  to  the  race  from  which  she 
sprung,  and  affiliated  with  the  one  which  she  had  every 
reason  to  abhor.  This  transformation,  the  reverse  of  the 
order  of  nature,  was  perfected  by  her  becoming  the  wife 
of  an  Indian,  and  the  mother  of  Indian  children.  As  if 
in  punishment  of  this  unnatural  alliance,  two  of  her  sons 
meet  with  a  violent  death  at  the  hands  of  their  brother, 
and  afterward,  to  complete  the  tragedy,  the  fratricide 
himself  dies  by  the  hand  of  violence. 

Notwithstanding  the  severity  of  these  domestic  calam- 
ities, and  the  toilsome  life  she  was  forced  to  lead,  she  met 


8  publisher's  note. 

her  trials  with  fortitude,  and  lived  to  the  great  age  of 
ninety-one  years.  Her  life,  however,  was  not  without  its 
"sunny  side."  She  found  attached  friends  among  her 
Seneca  kindred,  and  was  ever  treated  by  them  with  con- 
sideration and  kindness.  The  esteem  and  affection  with 
which  she  was  cherished  is  indicated  by  the  liberal  pro- 
vision made  for  her  by  the  Seneca  chiefs,  before  they  dis- 
posed of  their  hereditary  domain.  They  ceded  to  her  in 
fee-simple,  and  for  her  individual  use,  the  "Gardeau 
Reservation  "  upon  the  Genesee  River,  which  contained 
upward  of  nineteen  thousand  acres  of  land;  and  thus 
raised  her  and  her  posterity  to  an  affluence  beyond  the 
utmost  dreams  of  the  imagination,  had  she  chosen  after- 
ward to  retain  it,  and  return  to  civilized  life.  It  was  not 
the  least  hardship  of  her  case,  that,  when  liberty  and  res- 
toration were  finally  offered,  and  urged  upon  her,  she 
found  they  came  too  late  for  her  acceptance;  and  she 
was  forced  to  fulfill  her  destiny  by  dying,  as*she  had  lived, 
a  Seneca  woman. 

The  narrative  of  her  life  can  not  fail  to  awaken  our 
sympathies,  while  it  may  serve  to  remind  us  of  the  perils 
which  surrounded  our  fathers  during  the  period  of  colo- 
nization. As  time  wears  away  we  are  apt  to  forget,  in  the 
fullness  of  our  present  security,  the  dangers  which  sur- 
rounded the  founders  of  the  original  colonies,  from  the 
period  of  the  French  and  Indian  war  to  the  close  of  the 


publisher's  note.  9 

Revolution.  It  is  well  not  to  lose  our  familiarity  with 
these  trying  scenes,  lest  we  become  insensible  of  our  ever- 
continuing  debt  of  gratitude  to  those  who  met  those  dan- 
gers manfully,  to  secure  to  their  descendants  the  blessings 
we  now  enjoy.  This  narrative,  while  it  brings  to  light  a 
few  of  the  darkest  transactions  of  our  early  history,  is  not 
without  some  instruction. 

It  is  proper  to  state  that  this  work  was  first  published 
in  1824,  during  the  lifetime  of  Mrs.  Jemison,  and  that 
shortly  afterward,  the  author,  to  whose  diligence  we  are 
indebted  for  the  preservation  of  the  incidents  of  her  his- 
tory, himself  deceased.  In  1842,  the  work  was  revised 
by  Ebenezer  Mix,  Esq.,  who  also  added  chapters  V,  VIII, 
and  XV,  and  the  four  articles  in  the  Appendix. 

The  frequent  inquiries  made  for  the  work  of  the  pub- 
lisher since  it  went  out  of  print  induced  him  to  undertake 
the  publication  of  the  present  edition.  The  engraving 
which  forms  the  frontispiece  and  also  the  illustrations 
are  new,  and  were  designed  for  this  edition.  As  the  pro- 
gress of  Indian  research,  made  since  that  day,  has  revealed 
some  errors  in  the  text,  numerous  foot-notes,  historical 
and  geographical,  have  been  added,  corrective  or  explan- 
atory, which  are  now,  for  the  first  time,  published  with 
the  original  narrative. 

Rochester,  N.  Y.,  March,  1856. 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  peace  which  was  concluded  between  the  United 
States  and  Great  Britain  in  1783  led  to  a  treaty  of  peace 
and  amnesty  between  the  United  States  and  the  Indian 
confederacy  called  the  Six  Nations,  which  took  place  at 
Fort  Stanwix,  (now  Rome,  N.  Y.,)  in  1784,  conducted  by 
commissioners  on  the  part  of  the  United  States,  and  the 
chiefs,  warriors,  and  head  men  of  the  Six  Nations,  on 
their  part. 

By  this  treaty,  all  the  prisoners  who  had  been  taken 
and  were  at  that  time  retained  by  the  Indians  were  to  be 
set  at  liberty.  On  this  joyful  event,  those  prisoners  who 
had  escaped  the  tomahawk,  the  gauntlet,  and  the  sacrifi- 
cial fire,  were  released  from  bondage,  and  restored  to  their 
friends,  to  society,  and  to  the  world.  Although  the  num- 
ber of  prisoners  thus  released  were  few,  in  proportion  to 
the  great  number  who  had  been  taken,  they  were  so 
numerous  that  their  return  brought  the  legends  of  deeds 
of  torture    and  death   to   every  section  of  the  country. 


12  INTRODUCTION. 

These  horrid  tales  required  not  the  aid  of  fiction,  or  the 
lasive  powers  of  rhetoric,  to  highten  their  colorings, 
or  gain  credence  to  their  shocking  truths.  In  those  days, 
Indian  barbarities  were  the  constant  topic  of  the  domestic 
fireside,  the  parlor,  the  hall,  and  the  forum.  It  is  pre- 
sumed that,  at  this  time,  there  are  but  few  native  citizens 
that  have  passed  the  middle  age  who  do  not  distinctly  re- 
collect of  hearing  such  frightful  accounts  of  Indian  bar- 
barities, oft  repeated,  in  the  nursery  and  in  the  family 
circle,  until  it  almost  caused  their  hair  to  stand  erect,  and 
deprived  them  of  the  power  of  motion. 

Time,  however,  has  produced  a  confusion  of  incidents 
in  those  tales,  and  enveloped  the  fidelity  of  their  trans- 
mission to  us  in  clouds  of  doubt.  To  rescue  from  obliv- 
ion, and  preserve  in  their  primitive  purity,  some  of  those 
legends,  and  to  exemplify  and  record,  for  the  use  of  pos- 
terity as  well  as  for  the  present  generation,  a  faithful 
delineation  of  the  characteristic  traits  of  the  Iroquois,  is 
the  object  of  these  memoirs. 

At  the  same  treaty,  the  Six  Nations,  or  Iroquois,  were 
left  in  undisturbed  possession  of  the  greater  portion  of  the 
state  of  New  York,  and  had  the  right  of  possession  guar- 
antied to  them  by  the  United  States  of  all  the  territory 
west  of  a  line  called  the  property  line,  running  nearly  paral- 
lel with,  and  less  than  eighty  miles  west  of  the  Hudson  Riv- 
er, two  small  tracts  excepted.    At  this  time,  Mary  Jemison 


INTRODUCTION.  13 

had  been  with  the  Indians  twenty-nine  years  —  seven  had 
transpired  during  the  French  war  with  the  British,  in 
which  the  Six  Nations  raised  the  tomahawk  against  the 

British  and  Americans;  and  seven  during  the  revolution- 
ary war,  in  which  the  Indians  arrayed  themselves  on  the 
side  of  the  British  against  the  Americans;  there  being 
an  interval  of  peace  of  fifteen  years  between  —  if  peace  it 
could  be  called  —  when  they  were  constantly  sending  war 
parties  against  other  Indian  tribes,  south  and  north,  from 
the  torrid  to  the  frigid  zone,  and  west  to  the  Rocky 
Mountains. 

During  this  time,  Mrs.  Jemison  had  been  twice  married 
to  Indian  chiefs,  and  had  a  husband  and  seven  children 
then  living.  She,  too,  was  nearly  two  hundred  miles 
from  any  white  settlement,  and  knew  not  that  she  had  a 
white  relative  or  friend  on  earth :  she,  therefore,  resolved 
not  to  accept  of  her  freedom,  but  to  spend  the  remainder 
of  her  days  with  the  Indians,  where  she  knew  she  had 
affectionate  relatives  and  many  kind  friends.  This  reso- 
lution she  carried  fully  into  effect,  and  became  their  faith- 
ful and  correct  chronicler  for  more  than  three-fourths  of  a 
century. 

At  this  time,  1784.  and  for  several  years  afterward,  no 
settlements  of  white  people  were  made  in  the  state  west 
of  Cherry  Valley,  on  the  head  waters  of  the  Susquehanna, 
and  the  German  Flats,  on  the  Mohawk,  as  those  places 


14  INTRODUCTION. 

were  situated  nearly  as  far  west  as  the  property  line,  the 
boundary  of  the  Indian  lands.  So  fresh  were  the  wounds 
which  the  whites  had  received  from  their  savage  neigh- 
bors, that  the  Indians  were  viewed  with  a  jealous  eye, 
even  when  unmolested  and  unprovoked.  Under  these 
circumstances,  peaceable  citizens  were  little  inclined  to 
trespass  on  their  lands,  or  give  them  the  least  pretext  for 
a  quarrel,  by  even  traveling  into  their  country.  No 
white  people,  therefore,  visited  their  villages,  except 
some  half-savage  traders,  and  a  few  of  the  refuse  of  soci- 
ety, who,  to  escape  the  meshes  of  civil  or  criminal  law, 
bade  adieu  to  civilized  life,  and  took  shelter  in  the  re- 
cesses of  the  forest,  under  the  protection  of  its  lords. 

The  Indian  title  to  the  lands  surrounding  Mrs.  Jemi- 
son's  residence  was  not  sold  to  the  whites  until  the  great 
Council  in  1797,  when  may  be  dated  the  first  time  of  her 
associating  with  moral,  social,  civilized  man,  from  the 
time  of  her  childhood,  after  the  lapse  of  forty-two  years. 
Still,  she  had  retained  her  native  language  with  great 
purity ;  and  had  treasured  up,  and  constantly  kept  in  her 
own  breast,  all  those  moral  and  social  virtues,  by  the 
precepts  of  which  civilized  society  professes  to  be  guided, 
and  by  their  directions  always  to  be  governed. 

At  length,  the  richness  and  fertility  of  the  soil  excited 
emigration ;  and  here  and  there  a  family  settled  down  and 
commenced    improvements    in   the   country   which  had 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

recently  been  the  property  of  the  aborigines.  Those  who 
settled  near  the  Genesee  River  soon  became  acquainted 
with  "The  White  Woman/'  as  Mrs.  Jeniison  was  called, 
whose  history  they  anxiously  sought,  both  as  a  matter  of 
interest  and  curiosity.  Frankness  characterized  her  con- 
duct, and  without  reserve  she  would  readily  gratify  them 
by  relating  some  of  the  most  important  periods  of  her  life. 

Although  her  bosom  companion  was  an  ancient  warrior, 
and  notwithstanding  her  children  and  associates  were  all 
Indians,  yet  it  was  found  that  she  possessed  an  uncom- 
mon share  of  hospitality,  and  that  her  friendship  was 
well  worth  courting  and  preserving.  Her  house  was  the 
stranger's  home:  from  her  table  the  hungry  were  re- 
freshed ;  she  made  the  naked  as  comfortable  as  her  means 
would  admit ;  and  in  all  her  actions,  discovered  so  much 
natural  goodness  of  heart,  that  her  admirers  increased  in 
proportion  to  the  extension  of  her  acquaintance,  and  she 
became  celebrated  as  the  friend  of  the  distressed.  She 
was  the  protectress  of  the  homeless  fugitive,  and  made 
welcome  the  weary  wanderer.  Many  still  live  to  com- 
memorate her  benevolence  toward  them  when  prisoners 
during  the  war,  and  to  ascribe  their  deliverance  to  the 
mediation  of  "The  White  Woman." 

The  settlements  of  civilized  society  increased  around 
her,  and  the  whole  country  was  inhabited  by  a  rich  and 
respectable   people,  principally  from  New  England,  as 


16  INTRODUCTION. 

much  distinguished  for  their  spirit  of  inquisitiveness  as 
for  their  habits  of  industry  and  honesty,  who  had  all 
heard  from  one  source  and  another  a  part  of  her  life  in 
detached  pieces,  and  had  obtained  an  idea  that  the 
whole  taken  in  connection  would  afford  instruction  and 
amusement. 

Many  gentlemen  of  respectability  felt  anxious  that  her 
narrative  might  be  laid  before  the  public,  with  a  view 
not  only  to  perpetuate  the  remembrance  of  the  atrocities 
of  the  savages  in  former  times,  but  to  preserve  some 
historical  facts  which  they  supposed  to  be  intimately 
connected  with  her  life,  and  which  otherwise  must  be  lost. 

Forty  years  had  passed  since  the  close  of  the  Eevolu- 
tionary  war,  and  almost  seventy  years  had  seen  Mrs. 
Jemison  with  the  Indians,  when  Daniel  W.  Banister, 
Esq.,  at  the  instance  of  several  gentlemen,  and  prompted 
by  his  own  ambition  to  add  something  to  the  accumu- 
lating fund  of  useful  knowledge,  resolved,  in  the  autumn 
of  1823,  to  embrace  that  time,  while  she  was  capable  of 
recollecting  and  reciting  the  scenes  through  which  she 
had  passed,  to  collect  from  herself,  and  to  publish  to  the 
world,  an  accurate  account  of  her  life. 

I  was  employed  to  collect  the  materials,  and  prepare 
the  work  for  the  press  ;  and  accordingly  went  to  the 
house  of  Mrs.  Jennet  Whaley,  in  the  town  of  Castile, 
Genesee  County,  N.  Y.,  in  company  with  the  publisher, 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

who  procured   the  interesting  subject  of  the  following 

narrative  to  conic  to  that  place,  (a  distance  of  four  miles, ) 
and  there  repeat  the  story  of  her  eventful  life.  »slio 
came  on  foot,  in  company  with  ^Ir.  Thomas  Clute,  whom 
she  considered  her  protector,  and  tarried  several  days; 
winch  time  was  busily  occupied  in  taking  a  skeieh  of  her 
narrative  as  she  recited  it. 

In  stature,  she  is  very  short,  considerably  under  the 
middle  size;  but  stands  tolerably  erect,  with  her  head 
bent  forward,  apparently  from  her  having  for  a  long 
time  been  accustomed  to  carrying  heavy  burdens,  sup- 
ported by  a  strap  placed  across  her  forehead.  Her  com- 
plexion is  very  white  for  a  woman  of  her  age,  and 
although  the  wrinkles  of  fourscore  years  are  deeply  in- 
dented in  her  cheeks,  yet  the  crimson  of  youth  is  dis- 
tinctly visible.  Her  eyes  are  light  blue,  a  little  faded 
by  age,  but  naturally  brilliant  and  sparkling.  Her  Bight 
is  quite  dim,  though  she  is  able  to  perform  her  necessary 
labor  without  the  assistance  of  glasses.  Her  cheek-bones 
are  high,  and  rather  prominent ;  and  her  front  teeth,  in 
the  lower  jaw,  are  sound  and  good.  "When  she  looks  up, 
and  is  engaged  in  conversation,  her  countenance  is  very 
expressive  ;  but  from  her  long  residence  with  the  Indians, 
she  has  acquired  the  habit  of  peeping  from  under  the 
eyebrows,  as  they  do,  with  the  head  inclined  downward. 
Formerly,  her  hair  was  of  a  light  chestnut  brown;  it  is 


18  INTRODUCTION. 

now  quite  gray,  a  little  curled,  of  middling  length,  and 
tied  in  a  bunch  behind.  She  informed  me  that  she  had 
never  worn  a  cap  or  a  comb. 

She  speaks  English  plainly  and  distinctly,  slightly 
tinged  with  the  Irish  idiom,  and  has  the  use  of  words  so 
well  as  to  render  herself  intelligible  on  any  subject  with 
which  she  is  acquainted.  Her  recollection  and  memory 
exceeded  my  expectation.  It  can  not  be  reasonably  sup- 
posed that  a  person  of  her  age  has  kept  the  events  of 
seventy  years  in  so  complete  a  chain  as  to  be  able  to 
assign  to  each  its  proper  time  and  place.  She,  however, 
made  her  recital  with  as  few  obvious  mistakes  as  might 
be  expected  from  a  person  of  fifty.  Indeed,  in  every  case, 
where  she  attempted  to  give  dates,  she  was  remarkably 
correct,  —  so  uniformly  so  that  she  coincided  exactly  with 
history,  except  in  one  instance,  which  was  the  surrender 
of  Fort  Du  Quesne  by  the  French  to  the  English;  and 
this  is  more  to  be  attributed  to  her  ignorance  at  the  time 
than  to  the  treachery  of  her  memory,  for  the  fort  was 
always  filled  with  English  or  Yankee  traders,  trappers, 
hunters,  and  outlaws,  as  well  as  Frenchmen ;  and  the 
Ohio  Indians  knew  little  and  cared  less  who  commanded 
the  fort,  so  long  as  they  could  trade  there  to  suit  them- 
selves. Under  such  circumstances,  it  is  not  remarkable 
that  a  young  woman,  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  old,  domes- 
ticated  among  the  Indians,  and  residing  three  or  four 


INTRODUCTION.  19 

hundred  miles  from  the  fort,  should  not  know  the  precise 
time  that' the  French  flag  was  struck  and  the  English 
hoisted  in  its  stead ;  which  absolutely  took  place  in  1758, 
while  she  resided  in  that  country. 

She  walks  with  a  quick  step,  without  a  staff,  and  can 
yet  cross  a  stream  on  a  log  or  pole  as  steadily  as  any 
other  person.  Her  passions  are  easily  excited.  At  a 
number  of  periods  in  her  narration,  tears  trickled  down 
her  grief-wurn  cheek,  and  at  the  same  time  a  rising  sigh 
would  stop  her  utterance. 

Industry  is  a  virtue  which  she  has  uniformly  practiced 
from  the  day  of  her  adoption  to  the  present.  She  pounds 
her  samp,  cooks  for  herself,  gathers  and  chops  her  wood, 
feeds  her  cattle  and  poultry,  and  performs  other  laborious 
services.  Last  season,  she  planted,  tended,  and  gathered 
her  corn ;  in  short,  she  is  always  busy. 

Her  dress,  at  the  time  I  saw  her,  was  made  and  worn 
after  the  usual  Indian  fashion.  She  had  on  a  brown,  un- 
sed  flannel  short-gown,  with  long  sleeves,  the  skirt 
reaching  to  the  hips,  being  tied  before  in  two  places  with 
doer-skin  strings ;  below  the  skirt  of  the  gown  was  to  be 
Beta  three  or  four  inches  of  the  lower  extremity  of  a 
cotton  shirt,  which  was  without  collar  or  sleeves,  and 
open  before.  Her  petticoat,  or  the  Indian  substitute  for 
that  garment,  was  composed  of  about  a  yard  and  a 
quarter  of  blue  broadcloth,  with  the  lists  on,  and  sewed 


20  INTRODUCTION. 

together  at  the  ends.  This  was  tied  around  her  waist,  or 
rather  above  her  hips,  under  her  shirt,  with  a  string,  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  leave  one-fourth  of  a  yard  or  more 
of  the  top  of  the  cloth  to  be  turned  over  the  string,  and 
display  the  top  list,  and  four  or  five  inches  of  the  cloth 
below  the  bottom  of  the  shirt — the  main  body  of  the 
garment  and  the  other  list  reaching  down  to  the  calves 
of  her  legs ;  below  which  was  to  be  seen  her  leggins, 
consisting  of  pieces  of  blue  broadcloth,  wrapped  around 
her  legs,  and  tied  or  pinned  on,  reaching  from  her  knees 
to  just  within  the  tops  of  her  buckskin  moccasins.  She 
wore  no  footings  or  socks  on  her  feet  at  any  season,  un- 
less some  rags  wrapped  around  her  toes  could  be  con- 
sidered such.  Over  her  shoulders  was  wrapped  a  common 
Indian  or  Dutch  blanket,  and  on  her  head  she  wore  an 
old,  brown  woolen  cloth,  somewhat  in  the  shape  of  a 
sun-bonnet. 

Thus  attired  —  and  it  will  be  recollected  that  she  was 
not  caught  in  her  dishabille,  as  she  had  come  from  home, 
the  distance  of  four  miles,  for  the  express  purpose  of 
meeting  us  —  thus  attired,  I  say,  we  met  the  owner  of 
two  square  miles  of  very  fertile  and  productive  land,  ly- 
ing in  the  midst  of  a  dense  population,  and  near  an  ex- 
cellent market  —  with  an  annuity  of  three  hundred  dollars 
a  year,  secured  to  her,  her  heirs,  and  assigns  forever. 
Yet  such  was  the  dress  this  woman  was  not  onlv  contented 


INTRODUCTION.  21 

to  wear  but  delighted  in  wearing.  Habit  having  rendered 
it  convenient  and  comfortable,  she  wore  it  as  a  matter 
of  choice. 

Her  house,  in  which  she  lives,  is  twenty  by  twenty- 
eight  feet ;  built  of  square  timber,  with  a  shingled  roof 
and  a  framed  stoop.  In  the  center  of  the  house  is  a 
chimney  of  stones  and  sticks,  in  which  there  are  two  fire- 
places. She  has  a  good  framed  barn,  twenty-six  by 
thirty-six,  well  filled,  and  owns  a  fine  stock  of  cattle  and 
horses.  Besides  the  buildings  above  mentioned,  she  owns 
a  number  of  buildings  occupied  by  tenants,  who  work  her 
flats  upon  shares. 

Her  dwelling  is  on  the  west  side  of  Genesee  River, 
about  one  hundred  rods  north  of  the  Great  Slide  —  a 
curiosity  which  will  hereafter  be  described. 

Mrs.  Jemison  appeared  sensible  of  her  ignorance  of  the 
manners  of  the  white  people,  and  for  that  reason  was  not 
familiar,  except  with  those  with  whom  she  was  intimately 
acquainted.  In  fact,  she  was,  to  appearance,  so  jealous 
of  her  rights,  or  afraid  that  she  should  say  something  that 
would  be  injurious  to  herself  or  family,  that  if  Mr.  Clute 
had  not  been  present,  we  should  have  been  unable  to  have 
obtained  her  history.  She,  however,  soon  became  free 
and  unembarrassed  in  her  conversation,  and  spoke  with  a 
degree  of  mildness,  candor,  and  simplicity,  that  is  calcu- 
lated to  remove  all   doubts  as  to   the  veracity  of  the 


22  INTRODUCTION. 

speaker.  The  vices  of  the  Indians  she  appeared  to  palli- 
ate, or  at  least  not  to  aggravate,  and  seemed  to  take  pride 
in  extolling  their  virtues.  A  kind  of  family  pride  inclined 
her  to  withhold  whatever  would  blot  the  character  of  her 
descendants,  and  perhaps  induced  her  to  keep  back  many 
things  that  would  have  been  interesting. 

For  the  life  of  her  last  husband  we  are  indebted  to  her 
cousin,  Mr.  George  Jemison,  to  whom  she  referred  us  for 
information  on  that  subject  generally.  The  thoughts  of 
his  deeds,  probably,  chilled  her  old  heart,  and  made  her 
dread  to  rehearse  them ;  and  at  the  same  time  she  well 
knew  they  were  no  secret,  for  she  had  frequently  heard 
him  relate  the  whole,  not  only  to  her  cousin  but  to  others. 

Before  she  left  us,  she  was  very  sociable,  and  she  re- 
sumed her  naturally  pleasant  countenance,  enlivened  with 
a  smile. 

Her  neighbors  speak  of  her  as  possessing  one  of  the 
happiest  tempers  and  dispositions,  and  give  her  the  name 
of  never  having  done  a  censurable  act  to  their  knowledge. 

Her  habits  are  those  of  the  Indians  —  she  sleeps  on 
skins  without  a  bedstead;  sits  upon  the  floor,  or  on  a 
bench ;  and  when  she  eats,  holds  her  victuals  on  her  lap, 
or  in  her  hands. 

Her  ideas  of  religion  correspond  in  every  respect  with 
those  of  the  great  mass  of  the  Senecas.  She  applauds 
virtue,  and  condemns  vice.     She  believes  in  a  future  state, 


INTRODUCTION.  23 

in  which  the  good  will  bo  happy,  and  the  bad  miserable ; 
and  that  the  acquisition  of  that  happiness  depends  prima- 
rily upon  human  volition,  and  the  consequent  good  deeds 
of  the  happy  recipient  of  blessedness.  But  she  is  a  stran- 
ger to  the  doctrines  of  the  Christian  religion. 

Iler  daughters  are  said  to  be  active  and  enterprising 
women  ;  and  her  grandsons,  who  have  arrived  to  manhood, 
are  considered  able,  decent,  and  respectable  men,  in  their 
tribe,  and  many  of  them  are  greeted  with  respect  in  civil- 
ized society. 

Having  in  a  cursory  manner  introduced  the  principal 
subject  of  the  following  pages,  I  proceed  to  the  narration 
of  a  life  that  has  been  viewed  with  attention,  for  a  great 
number  of  years,  by  a  few,  and  which  will  be  read  by  the 
public  with  mixed  sensations  of  pleasure  and  pain,  joy 
and  sorrow,  and  with  interest,  anxiety,  and  satisfaction. 

Pembroke,  March,  1,  1824. 


CONTENTS. 


Letter  from  Ely  S.  Parker,  l)o-ne-ho-ga' -weh,  a  Seneca  sachem,     .     29 
Vowel  Sounds, 31 

CHAPTER  I. 

Parentage  of  Mary  Jemison — Born  on  the  sea  —  Lands,  with  her 
parents,  in  Philadelphia,  in  1743  —  Settles  on  Marsh  creek,  in 
Western  Pennsylvania  —  Indian  alarms  —  Her  childhood  and 
education, 33 

CHAPTER  II. 

Fancied  omen  —  Inroad  of  a  band  of  Shawnees  —  Whole  family  taken 
captive  in  1755  —  Marched  into  the  wilderness — Her  mother's 
farewell  address  —  Murder  of  her  father,  mother,  two  brothers, 
and  sister  —  Preparation  of  scalps  —  Indian  caution,  to  prevent 
pursuit  —  Arrival  at  Fort  Du  Quesne, 40 

CHAPTER  III. 

Mary  is  given  to  two  Seneca  women  —  They  descend  the  Ohio  — 
Arrival  at  She-nan-jee  —  She  is  dressed  in  Indian  costume  — 
Adopted  as  a  Seneca  —  Ceremony  of  Adoption — Is  named  Deh- 
he-wa-mis —  Nearly  regains  her  liberty  —  Removal  to  Wi-ish-to  — 
She  is  married  to  She-nin-jee,  a  Delaware  —  Birth  and  death  of  a 
child  —  Birth  of  another  child, 52 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Visits  Fort  Pitt  —  Desire  for  liberty  subsides  —  Labors  of  the  Indian 
females  —  Removal  from  Wi-ish-to  to  the  Genesee  —  Meet  Shawnees 
who  had  murdered  two  white  men,  and  were  torturing  a  third  — 
He  is  rescued  by  Mary  —  Arrive  at  Little  Beard's  Town,  ...  69 


26  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Geographical  names  —  Dialects  of  the  Iroquois  —  Little  Beard's  Town  — 

The  Genesee  Valley  — Land  slide—  Gardeau  Flats— Subsequently 

•  Mary  Jemison  Reservation  —  Mount  Morris  — Big  Tree  Village  — 

Caneadea, **1 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Indians  march  to  fight  the  British  —  Return  with  cattle  and  prison- 
ers  Two   prisoners   burned — An  Indian  woman's   eloquence  — 

Tragedy  of  the  "  Devil's  Hole  "—Death  of  She-nan-jee  — Attempt 
to  take  Mary  to  Niagara  by  force  —  She  marries  Hi-ok-a-too — Her 
children  —  Loss  of  a  daughter, 98 


CHAPTER,  VII. 

Peace  among  the  Indians  —  Their  happy  state  —  Troubles  between  Eng- 
land and  the  Colonies  —  Treaty  with  the  Colonies  —  Iroquois  agree 
to  remain  neutral  —  Treaty  with  the  British  —  Join  them  against 
the  Americans  —  Bounty  for  scalps  —  Four  female  prisoners  — 
Battle  of  Fort  Stanwix  —  Indian  loss  —  Butler  and  Brandt,  -    108 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Approach  of  General  Sullivan's  army — A  skirmish  —  Two  Oneida 
Indians  taken  —  One  sacrificed  —  Lieutenants  Boyd  and  Parker 
captured  —  Boyd's  barbarous  execution  —  Parker's  death  —  Senecas 
retreat  to  the  woods  —  Sullivan's  army  lays  waste  the  country  — 
Army  retires  —  Senecas  return,  but  to  disperse  —  Mary  goes  to 
Gardeau  Flats — Expedition  to  the  Mohawk  — Cornplanter  and  John 
O'Bail  —  Ebenezer  Allen, 118 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Mary  is  offered  her  freedom  —  She  declines  accepting  —  Her  reasons  — 
Her  favorite  Indian  brother  dies  —  Great  council  at  Big  Tree,  in 
17-97  —  Gardeau  reservation  given  to  Mary  by  the  chiefs  —  Con- 
tained 17,927  acres  of  land  —  Traditions  of  the  Senecas  —  The 
Great  Serpent  at  Nan-de-wa-o, .130 


CONTENTS.  27 


OHAPTEB  X. 

Little  Beard's  death  —  Singular  superstition —  Family  government  — 
Her  sons  Thomas  and  John  quarrel  —  John  Burden  Thoma 
John  is  tried  and  acquitted  bj  the  chien  —  Thomas'  character — 

His    wife    and     children  —  Death   of    lli-ok-a-too  —  His    age    and 
funeral  —  His  character, LS9 

CHAPTER  XL 

Mary's  family  troubles  continue  —  John's  enmity  toward  his  brother 
Jesse  —  They  quarrel  —  Whisky  the  cause  —  John  mnrdera 
Jesse  —  Jesse's  funeral  and  character, lGli 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Mary's  pretended  cousin,  George  Jemison  —  Ilis  poverty —  Her  kind- 
ness and  assistance  —  His  ingratitude  —  Attempt  to  defraud  her  of 
a  part  of  her  reservation  —  Is  expelled  from  the  premises,      .     158 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

John  Jemison  murdered  —  His  funeral,  life,  and  character  —  His  widow 
and  children  —  His  murderers  flee — Tall  Chief's  speech  —  They 
return  —  Their  fate, 164 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Mary  sells  part  of  her  reservation  —  The  hardships  of  her  life —  Great 
strength  of  constitution  —  Her  temperance  —  Destructive  effects 
of  ardent  spirits  among  the  Senecas  —  Witchcraft — Accusations 
against  her —  Executions  for  witchcraft  —  Her  descendants,  .     175 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Life  of  Hi-ok-a-too,  half-brother  of  Farmer's  Brother  —  Naturally  cru- 
el —  Inroad  upon  the  Catawbas  in  Tennessee  —  Present  at  Brad- 
dock's  defeat — Battle  of  Fort  Freeland  —  Expedition  to  Cherry 
Valley — His  barbarity — Battle  at  Upper  Sandusky — Colonel 
Crawford  taken,  and  burned  at  the  stake  —  Dr.  Knight's  escape  — 
Hi-ok-a-too  leads  a  war-party  against  the  Cherokees —  His  personal 
appearance  —  Dies  of  old  age, lt<5 


28  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Ebenezer  Allen  —  The  belt  of  wampum  —  He  lives  at  Mary's  house  — 
Marries  a  squaw — Taken  by  the  Indians — Escapes  and  secretes 
himself — Fed  by  Mary  —  Taken  again,  tried,  and  acquitted  — 
Builds  a  great  mill  at  Rochester  —  Marries  a  white  woman — Re- 
moves to  Allen's  creek  —  Marries  a  third  wife  —  Removes  to  Cana- 
da with  two  wives  —  Abandons  the  first  —  His  death,  .     .     .     201 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Government  of  the  Iroquois  —  Civil  and  Military  Chiefs  —  Counsel- 
ors _ Religious  Beliefs  —  The  Great  Spirit— The  Evil  Spirit  — 
Religious  festivals  —  Sacrifice  of  the  White  Dog  —  The  Dance  — 
Marriage  Customs  —  Chastity  of  the  Indian  —  Polygamy,      .     216 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Life  of  Mary  continued  —  Seneca  Reservations  sold  in  1825  — Is  left 
among  the  whites  —  Discontented  —  Sold  her  remaining  reserva- 
tion, and  removed  to  Buffalo  creek  —  Professes  Christianity  —  Her 
death  —  Is  buried  near  the  Mission  church  —  Description  of  her 
tombstone  —  Her  descendants, 236 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Confederacy  of  the  Iroquois  —  Extent  of  their  possessions  —  Red 
Jacket  —  Sales  of  reservations —  Ogden  Land  Company  —  Govern- 
ment policy  of  removal  west  of  the  Mississippi  —  The  ultimate  ex- 
tinction of  the  Red  race, .....     244 

CONCLUDING  NOTE. 

Future  destiny  of  the  Indian  —  His  reclamation  —  Schools  of  the 
missionaries  —  The  Christian  party  —  Schools  of  the  state  —  Future 
citizenship  —  Their  indebtedness  to  missionaries  —  Rights  of  pro- 
perty— Injustice  of  neglect  —  System  of  superintendence — Duty 
of  the  American  people — The  Indian  Department,     .     .     .     251 

APPENDIX. 

1.  Tragedy  of  the  Devil's  Hole, 273 

2.  General  Sullivan's  Expedition  to  Western  New  York,     .     .     .  278 

3.  Removal  of  the  Remains  of  Boyd, 291 

4.  The  Genesee  country  as  it  was  and  is, 293 

6.  Indian  Geographical  Names, 300 


LETTER  FROM  ELY  S.  PARKER, 
Do-ne-ho-ua'-weh,  A  Seneca  Sachem. 


Norfolk,  Mch.  2\th,  1856. 
D.  M.  Dewey,  Esq., 

Dear  Sir  : 

Yours  of  the  12th  is  received,  and  I  am  very 
happy  to  know  that  you  are  republishing  the  Life  of 
Mary  Jemison,  the  "White  "Woman." 

Many  years  ago,  I  perused  Seaver's  book  with 
great  interest,  and  have  since  had  good  opportunity  of 
testing  its  reliability,  by  comparing  it  with  the  traditional 
history  preserved  of  her  among  the  Indians  with  whom 
she  lived  and  died,  all  of  which  more  than  corroborates 
every  incident  related  in  the  narrative.  I  have,  therefore, 
every  reason  to  believe  it  to  be  entirely  true. 
I  am,  with  r expect, 

Yours  truli/, 

E.  S.  PARKER, 

DO-NE-HO'-GA-YVEH. 


VOWEL  SOUNDS. 


a as  in  arm. 

a as  in  at. 

a as  in  ale. 

g as  in  met. 

0 as  in  tone. 


LIFE  OF  MAltY  JEMISON. 


DEH-HE-WA-MI8 


CHAPTER  I. 

Parentage  of  Mary  Jemison  —  Born  on  the  Sea  —  Landrf,  with  her 
parents,  in  Philadelphia,  in  1743  —  Settles  in  Marsh  Creek,  in  West- 
ern Pennsylvania  —  Indian  alarms  —  Iler  childhood  and  edu- 
cation. 

Although  I  may  have  frequently  heard  the  history  of 
my  aneestry,  my  recollection  is  too  imperfect  to  enable 
me  to  trace  it  further  back  than  to  my  father  and  mother, 
whom  I  have  often  heard  mention  the  families  from 
whence  they  originated,  as  having  possessed  wealth,  and 
honorable  stations  under  the  government  of  the  country 
in  which  they  resided. 

On  account  of  the  great  length  of  time  thai  has  elapsed 
since  I  was  separated  from  my  parents  and  friends,  and 
having  heard  the  story  of  their  nativity  only  in  the  days 
of  my  childhood,  I  am  unable  to  state  positively  which  of 
the  two  countries,  Ireland  or  Scotland,  was  the  land  of  my 
parents'  birth  and  education.  It,  however,  is  my  impres- 
sion, that  they  were  born  and  brought  up  in  Ireland. 


34  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISOH. 

My  father's  name  was  Thomas  Jemison,  and  my 
mother's,  before  her  marriage,  was  Jane  Erwin.  Their  af- 
fection for  each  other  was  mutual,  and  of  that  happy  kind 
which  tends  directly  to  sweeten  the  cup  of  life  ;  to  render 
connubial  sorrows  lighter;  to  assuage  every  discontent- 
ment; and  to  promote  not  only  their  own  comfort,  but  that 
of  all  who  come  within  the  circle  of  their  acquaintance.  Of 
their  happiness,  I  recollect  to  have  heard  them  often  speak ; 
and  the  remembrance  I  yet  retain  of  their  mildness  and 
perfect  agreement  in  the  government  of  their  children,  to- 
gether with  their  mutual  attention  to  our  common  edu- 
cation, manners,  religious  instruction  and  wants,  renders 
it  certain  in  my  mind  that  they  were  ornaments  to  the 
married  state,  and  examples  of  connubial  love  worthy  of 
imitation.  After  my  remembrance,  they  were  strict  ob- 
servers of  religious  duties ;  for  it  was  the  daily  practice 
of  my  father,  morning  and  evening,  to  attend,  in  his 
family,  to  the  worship  of  God. 

Resolved  to  leave  the  land  of  their  nativity,  they  re- 
moved from  their  residence  to  a  port  in  Ireland,  where 
they  lived  but  a  short  time  before  they  set  sail  for  this 
country,  in  the  year  1742  or  1743,  on  board  the  ship  Wil- 
liam and  Mary,  bound  to  Philadelphia. 

The  intestine  divisions,  civil  wars,  aud  ecclesiastical 
rigidity  and  domination  that  prevailed  in  those  days, 
were  the  causes  of  their  leaving  their  mother  country,  to 


deii-he-wa-mis.  35 

find  a  home  in  the  American  wil<  .  under  the  mild 

and  tempen  William 

Pennj  where  they  might  worship  God  according  to  the 

dictates  of  their  own  con-,  ;ind  pursue  their  lawful 

avocations  without  fear  of  molestation. 

In  Europe,  my  parents  had  two  sons  and  one  daughter  j 
their  names  were  John,  Tl  md  Betsey;  with  whom, 

after  haying  put  their  effects  on  board,  they  embarked, 
I  large  connection  of  relatives  and  friends,  under 
all    those   painful    sensations   which    are   only  felt  when 
kindred  give  the  parting  hand  and  last  farewell  to 

•  to  whom  they  are  endeared  by  every  friendh 
During  their  voyage  I  was  horn  —  to  be  the  sport  of 
fortune  and  almost  an  outcast  to  civil  society;    to  stem 
current  of  adversity  through  a  long  chain  of  vicissi- 
tudes, unsupported   by  the  advice  of  tender  parents,  or 
the  hand  of  an  affectionate  friend;  and  even  without  the 
enjoyment,  from  others,  of  any  of  those  tender  sympathies 
which  are  calculated  to  sweeten  the  joys  of  life,  except 
I  as  naturally  flow  from  uncultivated  minds,  that  have 
I  een  rendered  callous  by  ferocity. 

Excepting  my  birth,  nothing  remarkable  occurred  to 

Oreutl  on  their  passage  ;   and  they  were  safely  landed 

at    Philadelphia.      My   father   bring  fond   of    rural    life, 

and  bavin*.'  been  bred  to  agricultural   pursuits,  BOOS  left 

the  citv,  and  removed  his  family  to  a  tract   of  excellent 
3  li* 


36  LIFE    OF    MARY    JEMISON. 

land  lying  on  Marsh  Creek,  on  the  frontier  settlement  of 
Pennsylvania.  At  that  place,  he  cleared  a  large  farm; 
and  for  seven  or  eight  years  enjoyed  the  fruits  of  his 
industry.  Peace  attended  their  labors;  and  they  had 
nothing  to  alarm  them,  save  the  midnight  howl  of  the 
prowling  wolf,  or  the  terrifying  shriek  of  the  ferocious 
panther,  as  they  occasionally  visited  the  improvements 
to  take  a  lamb  or  a  calf  to  satisfy  their  hunger. 

During  this  period  my  mother  had  two  sons,  between 
whose  ages  there  was  a  difference  of  about  three  years. 
The  oldest  was  named  Matthew,  and  the  other  Robert. 

Health  presided  on  every  countenance,  and  vigor  and 
strength  characterized  every  exertion.  Our  mansion  was 
a  little  paradise.  The  morning  of  my  childish,  happy 
days,  will  ever  stand  fresh  in  my  memory,  notwithstanding 
the  many  severe  trials  through  which  I  have  passed,  in 
arriving  at  my  present  situation,  at  so  advanced  an  age. 
Even  at  this  remote  period,  the  recollection  of  my 
pleasant  home  at  my  father's,  of  my  parents,  of  my 
brothers  and  sister,  and  of  the  manner  in  which  I  was 
deprived  of  them  all  at  once,  affects  me  so  powerfully 
that  I  am  almost  overwhelmed  with  grief  that  is  seem- 
ingly insupportable.  Frequently,  I  dream  of  those  happy 
days  :  but  alas  !  they  are  gone ;  they  have  left  me  to  be 
carried  through  a  long  life,  dependent  for  the  little 
pleasures  of  nearly  seventy  years  upon  the  tender  mercies 


Dl  ii-m:-\v .\-.Mh.  37 

of  the  Indians!  In  the  Bpring  of  1752,  and  through  the 
succeeding  3,   the   Btoriea   of    Indian    barbarities 

Inflicted  upon  the  whites  in  those  days  frequently  excited 
in  my  parents  the  most  serious  alarm  for  our  safety. 

The  next   year,  the  Btorm  gathered  faster;   many  mur- 
were  committed;  and  many  captives  were  eip 

to  meet  death  in  its  nmst  frightful  form,  by  haying  their 
bodies  stuck  full  of  pine  splinters,  which  were  imme- 
diately sel  mi  lire,  while  their  tormentors  were  exulting 
in  their  distress  and  rejoicing  in  their  agony. 

In  17^4,  an  army  for  the  protection  of  the  settlers,  and 
to  drive  back  the  French  and  Indians,  was  raised  from 
the  militia  of  the  eolonial  governments,  and  placed,  sec- 
ondarily, under  the  command  of  Colonel  George  Wash* 
mgton.  In  that  army  I  had  an  uncle,  whose  name  was 
John  Jemison,  who  was  killed  at  the  battle  of  the  Great 
Meadows,  or  Fort  Necessity.  His  wife  had  died  some 
time  before  this,  and  left  a  young  child,  which  my  mother 
nursed  in  the  most  tender  manner,  till  its  mother's  Bister 
took  it  away,  a  few  months  after  my  uncle's  death.  The 
French  and  Indians,  after  the  surrender  of  Fort  Necessity 
by  Col.  Washington,  (which  happened  the  same  season, 
and  soon  after  his  victory  over  them  at  that  place,)  grew 
more  and  more  terrible.  The  death  of  the  whites,  and 
the  plundering  and  burning  of  their  property,  was  appa- 
rently their  only  object.     But  as  yet  we   had   not   beard 


38  LIFE    OF    MARY   JEMISOX. 

the  death-yell,  nor  seen  the  smoke  of  a  dwelling  that  had 
been  lit  by  an  Indian's  hand. 

The  return  of  a  new-year's  day  found  us  unmolested ; 
and  though  we  knew  that  the  enemy  was  at  no  great  dis- 
tance from  us,  my  father  concluded  that  he  would  con- 
tinue to  occupy  his  land  another  season,  expecting,  proba- 
bly from  the  great  exertions  which  the  government  was 
then  making,  that  as  soon  as  the  troops  could  commence 
their  operations  in  the  spring,  the  enemy  would  be  con- 
quered, and  compelled  to  agree  to  a  treaty  of  peace. 

In  the  preceding  autumn,  my  father  either  moved  to 
another  part  of  his  farm,  or  to  another  neighborhood,  a 
short  distance  from  our  former  abode.  I  well  recollect 
moving,  and  that  the  barn  that  was  on  the  place  we 
moved  to  was  built  of  logs,  though  the  house  was  a 
good  one. 

The  winter  of  1754-5,  was  as  mild  as  common  fall 
seasons ;  and  spring  presented  a  pleasant  seedtime,  and 
indicated  a  plenteous  harvest.  My  father,  with  the 
assistance  of  his  oldest  sons,  repaired  his  farm  as  usual, 
and  was  daily  preparing  the  soil  for  the  reception  of  seed. 
His  cattle  and  sheep  were  numerous,  and  according  to  the 
best  idea  of  wealth  that  I  can  now  form,  he  was  wealthy. 

But  alas !  how  transitory  are  all  human  affairs !  how 
fleeting  are  riches !  how  brittle  the  invisible  thread  on 
which  all  earthly  comforts  are  suspended!     Peace  in  a 


DEH-HB-Wl-MIS.  39 

moment  can  take  an  immeasurable  flight  ;  health  can 
lose  its  rosy  cheeks;   and  life  will  Finish  like  ■  vapor 

at  the  appearance  Of  the  sun  !  In  one  fatal  day,  our 
prospectl  were  all  blasted;  and  death,  by  cruel  hands, 
inflicted  upon  almost  the  whole  <'f  the  family. 

My  education  had  received  as  much  attention  from  my 
parents  as  their  situation  in  a  new  country  would  admit. 
I  had  been  at  school  some,  where  I  learned  to  read 
in  a  book  that  was  about  half  as  large  as  a  Bible ;  and 
in  the  Bible  I  had  read  a  little.  I  had  also  learned  the 
Catechism,  which  I  used  frequently  to  repeat  to  my 
parents;  and  every  night,  before  I  went  to  bed,  I  was 
obliged  to  stand  up  before  my  mother,  and  repeat  some 
words  that  I  suppose  was  a  prayer. 

My  reading,  catechism,  and  prayers,  I  have  long  since 
forgotten  ;  though,  for  a  number  of  the  first  years  that  I 
lived  with  the  Indians,  I  repeated  the  prayers  as  often 
as  I  had  an  opportunity.  After  the  revolutionary  war,  I 
remembered  the  names  of  some  of  the  letters  when  I  saw 
them ;  but  have  never  read  a  word  since  I  was  taken 
prisoner.  It  is  but  a  few  years  since  a  missionary  kindly 
gave  me  a  Bible,  which  I  am  very  fond  of  hearing  my 
neighbors  read  to  me,  and  should  be  pleased  to  learn  to 
r<-ad  it  myself;  but  my  sight  for  ft  number  of  yean  has 
been  so  dim  that  I  have  not  been  able  to  distinguish  one 
letter  from  another. 


40  LIFE  OF   MARY  JEMTSON. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Fancied  omen  —  Inroad  of  a  band  of  Shawnees  —  Whole  family  taken 
captive  in  1755 — Marched  into  the  wilderness — Her  mother's 
farewell  address  —  Murder  of  her  father,  mother,  two  brothers, 
and  sister  —  Preparation  of  scalps  —  Indian  caution,  to  prevent 
pursuit  —  Arrival  at  Fort  Du  Quesne. 

On  a  pleasant  day  in  the  spring  of  1755,  when  my  fa- 
ther was  sowing  flax-seed,  and  my  brothers  driving  the 
teams,  I  was  sent  to  a  neighbor's  house,  a  distance  of  per- 
haps a  mile,  to  procure  a  horse,  and  return  with  it  the 
next  morning.  I  went  as  I  was  directed.  I  went  out 
of  the  house  to  which  I  had  been  sent  in  the  beginning  of 
the  evening,  and  saw  a  sheet,  wide  spread,  approaching  to- 
ward me,  in  which  I  was  caught,  as  I  have  ever  since  be- 
lieved, and  deprived  of  my  senses.  The  family  soon  found 
me  on  the  ground,  almost  lifeless,  as  they  said ;  took  me 
in,  and  made  use  of  every  remedy  in  their  power  for  my 
recovery;  but  without  effect,  till  daybreak,  when  my 
senses  returned,  and  I  soon  found  myself  in  good  health, 
so  that  I  went  home  with  the  horse  very  early  in 
the  morning. 

The  appearance  of  that  sheet  I  have  ever  considered  as 


DEii-m:-\\A-.\ns.  41 

a  forerunner  of  the  melancholy  catastrophe  that  so  soon 
afterward  happened  to  our  family;  and  my  being  caught 
in  it,  I  believe,  was  ominous  of  my  preservation  from 
death  at  the  time  we  were  captured. 

As  1  before  observed!  1  got  home  with  my  horse  very 
early  in  the  morning,  where  I  found  a  man  who  lived  in 
our  neighborhood,  and  hie  Bister-in-law  who  had  three 
children,  one  son  and  two  daughters.  I  soon  learned  that 
they  had  come  there  to  live  a  short  time;  but  for  what 
purpose  I  can  not  say.  The  woman's  husband,  however, 
was  at  that  time  in  Washington's  army,  lighting  for  his 
eountry;  and  as  her  brother-in-law  had  a  house,  she' had 
Lived  with  him  in  his  absence.  Their  names  I  have  for- 
gotten. Immediately  after  I  got  home,  the  man  took  the 
horse  to  go  to  his  own  house  after  a  bag  of  grain,  and 
took  his  gun  in  his  hand  for  the  purpose  of  killing  some 
game,  if  he  should  chance  to  see  any.  Our  family,  as 
usual,  were  busily  employed  about  their  common  business. 
Father  was  shaving  an  ax-helve  at  the  side  of  the  house; 
mother  was  making  preparations  for  breakfast;  my  two 
oldest  brothers  were  at  work  near  the  barn;  and  the  little 
ones,  with  myself,  and  the  woman  and  her  three  children, 
were  in  tin-  ho; 

Break:  not  yet  ready,  when  we  were'alarmed  by 

the  discharge  of  a  number  of  guns,  that  seemed  to  be 
near.     Mother  and  the  woman  before  mentioned  almost 


42  LIFE   OF   MARY  JEMISOK. 

f  •  ,u.j  a;  H  and  every  one  trembled  with  fear. 

and  horse  lay  dead  near 
the  house,  having  jusi  been  shot  by  the  Indians. 

I  was  afterward  informed,  that  the  Indians  discovered 
him  at  his  own  house  with  his  gun,  and  pursued  him  to 
father's,  where  they  shot  him  as  I  have  related.  They 
first  secured  my  father,  and  then  rushed  into  the  house, 
and  without  the  least  resistance  made  prisoners  of  my 
mother,  brothers,  and  sister,  the  woman,  her  three  children, 
and  myself;  and  then  commenced  plundering. 

My  two  brothers,  Thomas  and  John,  being  at  the  barn, 
escaped  and  went  to  Virginia,  where  my  grandfather  Er- 
win  then  lived,  as  I  was  informed  by  a  Mr.  Fields,  who 
was  at  my  house  about  the  close  of  the  revolutionary  war. 

The  party  that  took  us  consisted  of  six  Indians  and 
four  Frenchmen,  who  immediately  commenced  plundering, 
as  I  just  observed,  and  took  what  they  considered  most 
valuable ;  consisting  principally  of  bread,  meal,  and  meat. 
Having  taken  as  much  provision  as  they  could  carry, 
they  set  out  with  their  prisoners  in  great  haste,  for  fear 
of  detection,  and  soon  entered  the  woods.*  On  our  march 
that  day,  an  Indian  went  behind  us  with  a  whip,  with 
which  he  frequently  lashed  the  children,  to  make  them 
keep  up.     In  this  manner  we  traveled  till  dark,  without  a 

*  As  Mary  was  born  in  the  year  1742  or  1743,  and  was  taken  cap- 
tive in  175?,  she  was  at  this  time  about  thirteen  years  of  age. —  [Ed. 


m:ii-hf.-\v  \-mis.  43 

mouthful    of  food   <>r    I  drop    of  water,  although  we   had 

in »t  eaten  linos  tin-  eight   before.     Whenever  the  little 
children  oried  for  water,  the  Indians  would  make  then 

drink  urine,  (»r  go  thirsty.    At  night  they  encamped  in 

tlie   WOOda,   without    lire   and   without    shelter,   when-   we 

were  watched  with  the  greatest    vigilance.     Extremely 

fatigued,  and  very  hungry,  we  were  compelled  to  lieupOD 

the  ground,  without  supper  or  a  drop  of  water  to  satisfy 
the  cravings  of  our  appetites.  A-  in  the  day  time,  so  the 
little  ones  were  made  to  drink  urine  in  the  night,  if  they 
cried  for  water.  Fatigue  alone  brought  DJ  a  little  Bleep 
for  the  refreshment  of  our  weary  limbs;  and  at  the  dawn 
of  day  wo  were  again  started  on  our  march,  in  the  same 
order  that  we  had  proceeded  the  day  before.  About  sun- 
v.e  wire  halted,  and  the  Indians  gave  us  a  full 
breakfast  of  provision  that  they  had  brought  from  my 
father's  house.  Each  of  us,  being  very  hungry,  partook 
of  this  bounty  of  the  Indians,  except  father,  who  was  so 
much  overcome  with  his  situation,  BO  much  exhausted  by 
anxiety  and  grief,  that  silent  despair  seemed  fastened 
Upon  his  countenance,  and  he  could  not  be  prevailed  upon 
to  refresh  his  sinking  nature  by  the  use  of  a  monsl  of 
food.  Our  repast  being  finished,  we  again  resumed  our 
march;  and  before  noon  passed  a  small  fort,  that  1  heard 
my  father  say  was  called  Furt  Oanagojigge. 


44  LIFE    OF    MAEY    JEMISON. 

That  was  the  only  time  that  I  heard  him  speak  from 
the  time  we  were  taken  till  we  were  finally  separated  the 
following  night. 

Toward  evening,  we  arrived  at  the  border  of  a  dark  and 
dismal  swamp,  which  was  covered  with  small  hemlocks 
or  some  other  evergreen,  and  various  kinds  of  bushes,  into 
which  we  were  conducted ;  and  having  gone  a  short  dis- 
tance, we  stopped  to  encamp  for  the  night. 

Here  we  had  some  bread  and  meat  for  supper;  but  the 
dreariness  of  our  situation,  together  with  the  uncertainty 
under  which  we  all  labored,  as  to  our  future  destiny, 
almost  deprived  us  of  the  sense  of  hunger,  and  destroyed 
our  relish  for  food. 

Mother,  from  the  time  we  were  taken,  had  manifested 
a  great  degree  of  fortitude,  and  encouraged  us  to  support 
our  troubles  without  complaining;  and  by  her  conver- 
sation, seemed  to  make  the  distance  and  time  shorter,  and 
the  way  more  smooth.  But  father  lost  all  his  ambition 
in  the  beginning  of  our  trouble,  and  continued  apparently 
lost  to  every  care  —  absorbed  in  melancholy.  Here,  as 
before,  she  insisted  on  the  necessity  of  our  eating;  and 
we  obeyed  her,  but  it  was  done  with  heavy  hearts. 

As  soon  as  I  had  finished  my  supper,  an  Indian  took 
off  my  shoes  and  stockings,  and  put  a  pair  of  moccasins 
on  my  feet,  which  my  mother  observed;   and  believing 


DEIMIE-WA-MIS.  If 

that  they  would  spare  m\  life,  eyen  If  the  j  should 

to 

the  other  captives,  addressed  me,  as  near  as  I  ran  rem 
her,  in  th**  following  words: 

"My  dear  little  Mary.  I    fear  that  the  time  has  arr: 
When  we  RlUSl   he  parted    fur  ever.      Your  lit*.-,  my  child, 

I  think  will  he  spand;  hut  we  shall  probably  be  l' 

hawked  here  in  this  lonesome  place  1»\  the  Indian-.  Oh  I 
how    <an    I    part    with    you.  my    darling  What    will 

meofmy  sweet  little  Mary.'  Oh!  how  can  1  think  of 
r  being  continued  in  captivity,  without  a  hope  of  your 
being  n  Oh!  that  death  had  matohed  yon  from 

my  embraeee  in  your  infancy:  the  pain  of  parting  then 
would  have  been  pleasing  to  what  it  now  Is;  and  I 
should  have  seen  the  end  of  your  troubles!     Alas,  my 

dear!  my  heart  Meeds  at  the  thought  of  what  awaits  yoUj 
hut.  if  you  leave  us,  remember,  my  child,  your  own  name, 
and  the  names  of  your  father  and  mother,  lie  careful 
and  not  forget  your  English  tongue.  If  you  shall  have 
an  opportunity  to  get  away  from  the  Indians  don't  try 
to  escape;   for  if  you  do  they  will  find   and  destroy 

t,  my  little  daughter,  the  prayers  that  I  have 

learned  you  —  say  them  often  :   be  a  good  child,  and   I 
will  bless  you  !      May  God  bleSS  you,  my  child,  and  make 

you  comfortable  and  happy." 

During  this  time,  the    Indians   stripped   the   shoes  and 

stoekin^s  from  the  little  boy  that   belonged  to  the  woman 


46  LIFE   OF    MARY   JEMISON. 

who  was  taken  with  us,  aud  put  moccasins  on  his  feet,  as 
they  had  done  before  on  mine.  I  was  crying.  An  Indian 
took  the  little  boy  and  myself  by  the  hand,  to  lead  us  off 
from  the  company,  when  my  mother  exclaimed,  "  Do  n't 
cry,  Mary  ! — don't  cry,  my  child  !  God  will  bless  you  ! 
Farewell  —  farewell !  " 

The  Indian  led  us  some  distance  into  the  bushes  or 
woods,  and  there  lay  down  with  us  to  spend  the  night. 
The  recollection  of  parting  with  my  tender  mother  kept 
me  awake,  while  the  tears  constantly  flowed  from  my 
eyes.  A  number  of  times  in  the  night,  the  little  boy 
begged  of  me  earnestly  to  run  away  with  him,  and  get 
clear  of  the  Indians  ;  but  remembering  the  advice  I  had 
so  lately  received,  and  knowing  the  dangers  to  which  we 
should  be  exposed,  in  traveling  without  a  path  and  with- 
out a  guide,  through  a  wilderness  unknown  to  us,  I  told 
him  that  I  would  not  go,  and  persuaded  t*m  to  lie  still 
till  morning. 

Early  the  next  morning,  the  Indians  and  Frenchmen 
that  we  had  left  the  night  before  came  to  us;  but  our 
friends  were  left  behind.  It  is  impossible  for  any  one  to 
form  a  correct  idea  of  what  my  feelings  were  at  the  sight 
of  those  savages,  whom  I  supposed  had  murdered  my 
parents  and  brothers,  sister  and  friends,  and  left  them 
in  the  swamp,  to  be  devoured  by  wild  beasts !  But  what 
could  I  do  1    A  poor  little  defenseless  girl  j  without  the 


i)i:ii-iii:-\v  \-mi<.  47 

power  or  means  of  escaping;   without    |   bOBM   to  go 

even  it'  I  could  be  liberated;  without  i  knowledge  of  the 
direction  or  cUstanoe  to  my  former  place  of  residenoe; 
ami  without  a  living  friend  to  whom  to  tiy  for  protection, 
I  fell  ■  kiml  of  horror,  anxiety , and  dread,  that  to  me 
seemed  KmrappOrtable.    I  durst  nol   cry — I   durst  aot 

complain;  and  to  inquire  of  them  the  fate  of  my  friends, 
even  if  I  could  have  mustered  resolution,  was  beyond 
my  ability,  as  1  could  not  speak  their  language,  nor 
they  understand  mine.  My  only  relief  was  in  silent, 
stifled  sobs. 

My  suspicions  &0to  the  fate  of  my  parents  proved  too 

true;    f«»r  soon  after  I  left   them   they  were  killed  and 

pod,  together  with  Robert,  Matthew,  Betsey,  and  the 

woman  and  her  two  children,  and  mangled  in  the  most 

shocking  manner. 

Haying  given  the  little  boy  and  myself  some  bread 
and  meal  for  breakfast,  they  led  us  on  as  fast  as  we  could 
travel,  and  on.-  of  them  went  behind  with  a  long  stall, 
poking  Dp  all  the  grass  and  weeds  that  we  trailed  down 
by   going  over   them.      By   taking  that   precaution,   they 

avoided  detection;  for  each  weed  was  so  nicely  placed  in 

its  natural  position,  that  no  one  would  have  suspected 
that  we  had  passed  that  way.  It  is  the  OUStOU)  of 
Indians,  when  scouting,  or  on  private  expeditions,  t<>  Btep 
carefully,  and  where  no  impression  of  their  feet  can  btt 


48  LIFE    OF    MARY   JEMISON. 

left  —  shunning  wet  or  muddy  ground.  They  seldom 
take  hold  of  a  bush  or  limb,  and  never  break  one ;  and 
by  observing  these  precautions,  and  that  of  setting  up  the 
weeds  and  grass  which  they  necessarily  lop,  they  com- 
pletely elude  the  sagacity  of  their  pursuers,  and  escape 
that  punishment  which  they  are  conscious  they  merit 
from  the  hand  of  justice. 

After  a  hard  day's  march  we  encamped  in  a  thicket, 
where  the  Indians  made  a  shelter  of  boughs,  and  then 
built  a  good  fire  to  warm  and  dry  our  benumbed  limbs 
and  clothing ;  for  it  had  rained  some  through  the  day. 
Here  we  were  again  fed  as  before.  "When  the  Indians 
had  finished  their  supper,  they  took  from  their  baggage 
a  number  of  scalps,  and  went  about  preparing  them  for 
the  market,  or  to  keep  without  spoiling,  by  straining 
them  over  small  hoops  which  they  prepared  for  that 
purpose,  and  then  drying  and  scraping  them  by  the  fire. 
Having  put  the  scalps,  yet  wet  and  bloody,  upon  the 
hoops,  and  stretched  them  to  their  full  extent,  they  held 
them  to  the  fire  till  they  were  partly  dried,  and  then, 
with  their  knives,  commenced  scraping  off  the  flesh ;  and 
in  that  way  they  continued  to  work,  alternately  drying 
and  scraping  them,  till  they  were  dry  and  clean.  That 
being  done,  they  combed  the  hair  in  the  neatest  manner, 
and  then  painted  it  and  the  edges  of  the  scalps,  yet  on 
the  hoops,  red.     Those  scalps  I  knew  at  the  time  must 


Dl  H-Hl  i  3. 

•  been  token  from  our  family,  by  tin*  color  of  the  hair. 
My  mother*!  hair  was  red;  and  I  could  easily  distinguish 
my  father's  and  the  children's  from  each  other. 

sij_rbt  was  mod  appalling;  yet  1  was  « ►! >1  i<_r***l  to  endure  it 
without  complaining.    Jn  the  ooa  the  night,  they 

made  me  to  imdentand  that  they  should  nci  have  killed 
the  family,  if  the  whites  had  col  pursued  them. 

Mr.  Fields,  whom  I  have  before  mentioned,  informed 
me  that,  at  the  time  we  were  taken,  he  lived  In  the  vicin- 
of  my  father;  and  that,  on  hearing  of  our  captivity, 
the  whole  neighborhood  turned  ou1  in  pursuii  of  the  i 
ind  to  deliver  us.  if  possible;  but  that  their  efforts 
unavailing.    They,  however,  pursued  us  to  the  dark 
up,  where  they  found  my  father,  his  family,  and  com- 
panions, stripped,  and  mangled  in  the  moai  inhuman  man- 
ner: that  from  thence  the  march  of  the  cruel  monsters 
could  in -t   be   traced   in   any  direction;   and    that   they  re- 
turned to  their  homes  with  the   melancholy  tidings  of 
our   misfortunes,    supposing  we  had   all    shared    in    the 
massacre. 

The  next  morning  We  pursued  our  journey,  an    Indian 
g  l,cf  i i.  Ming  up  the  Wi  On   the  day 

re.  At  night,  we  encamped  on  the  ground  in  the 
Open  air,  without  a  shelter  or  fire. 

In    the   momil  OUl  early,  and   traveled 

as  on   the   two  former  days;    though   the   weather  was 


50  LIFE    OF    MARY    JEMISON. 

extremely  uncomfortable,  from  the  continual  falling  of 
rain  and  snow. 

At  night  the  snow  fell  fast,  and  the  Indians  built  a 
shelter  of  boughs,  and  kindled  a  fire,  where  we  rested 
tolerably  dry  through  that  and  the  two  succeeding  nights. 

When  we  stopped,  and  before  the  fire  was  kindled,  I 
was  so  much  fatigued  from  running,  and  so  far  benumbed 
by  the  wet  and  cold,  that  I  expected  that  I  must  fall  and 
die  before  I  could  get  warm  and  comfortable.  The  fire, 
however,  soon  restored  the  circulation  of  blood;  and  after 
I  had  taken  my  supper,  I  felt  so  that  I  rested  well 
through  the  night. 

On  account  of  the  storm,  we  were  two  days  at  that 
place.  On  one  of  those  days,  a  party  consisting  of  six 
Indians,  who  had  been  to  the  frontier  settlements,  came 
to  where  we  were,  and  brought  with  them  one  prisoner  — 
a  young  white  man,  who  was  very  tired  and  dejected.  His 
name  I  have  forgotten. 

Misery  certainly  loves  company.  I  was  extremely 
glad  to  see  him,  though  I  knew  from  his  appearance  that 
his  situation  was  as  deplorable  as  my  own,  and  that  he 
could  afford  me  no  kind  of  assistance.  In  the  afternoon 
the  Indians  killed  a  deer,  which  they  dressed,  and  then 
roasted  whole ;  which  made  them  a  full  meal.  We  were 
each  allowed  a  share  of  their  venison,  and  some  bread,  so 
that  we  made  a  good  meal  also. 


DEH-Hfc>\\  A-M1S.  ,',1 

Having  spent    three  nights  ami   two  da\  s  at  tliat  p]f 

and  the  itonn  baying  ceased,  earl}  in  tin-  moraing  the 

whole  company,  Consisting  Of  twelve  Indians,  fou  1'rench- 
11. en,  the  young  man.  the  little  hoy.  and  myself,  moved  on 
at  a  moderate  pace,  without  taking  the  previously-adopted 

intions  t"  obliterate  or  hide  our  trail. 

in  the  afternoon  we  came  in  sight  of  Tort  Du  <v 
(since  Fori  Pitt,  now  Pittsburg,)  where  we  halted,  while 

the  Indians  performed  some  ceremonies  in  conformity  to 

their  customs  on  such  occasions.     That    fort  was  then 

pied   by   the   French   and    Indian-.      [1    -food  at  the 

junction   of  the   Monongahela,   (Falling-in-Banks,)   and 

Alleghany  rivers,  where  the  Ohio  Biver  begins  to  take  its 
name.     The  word  O-hi-o  signifies  bloody.* 

At  the  place  where  we  halted,  the  Indians  combed  the 
hair  of  the  young  man,  the  boy,  and  myself,  and  then 
painted  our  foes  and  hair  red,  in  the  finest  Indian  style. 
We  were  then  conducted  into  the  fort,  where  we  received 
a  little  bread,  and  were  then  shut  up  in  an  uninhabited 
house,  and  left  to  tarry  alone  through  the  night. 

i   i  ,.t,  -->jo,  the  radix  of  the  word   Ohio,  signifies  the    "Beautiful 

j"  and  the  Iroquois,  by  conferring  it  upon  the  Alleghany,  or  head 

branch  of  the  Ohio,  have  not  only  fixed  a  name  from  their  language  upon 

one  of  the  great  rivers  of  the  Continent,  hut  indirectly  upon  one  of  the 

noblest  fetates  of  our  Confederacy. — [League  of  the  Iroquois,  p.  436. 

4  C 


52  LIFE   OF   MARY   JEMISON. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Mary  is  given  to  two  Seneca  women  —  They  descend  the  Ohio  — 
Arrival  at  She-nan-jee  —  She  is  dressed  in  Indian  costume  — 
Adopted  as  a  Seneca  —  Ceremony  of  Adoption — Is  named  Deh- 
he-wa-mis —  Nearly  regains  her  liberty  —  Removal  to  Wi-ish-to  — 
She  is  married  to  She-nin-jee,  a  Delaware  —  Birth  and  death  of  a 
child  —  Birth  of  another  child. 

The  night  was  spent  in  gloomy  forebodings.  What  the 
result  of  our  captivity  would  be,  it  was  out  of  our  power  to 
determine,  or  even  imagine.  At  times,  we  could  almost 
realize  the  approach  of  our  masters  to  butcher  and  scalp 
us ;  again,  we  could  nearly  see  the  pile  of  wood  kindled 
on  which  we  were  to  be  roasted ;  and  then  we  would 
imagine  ourselves  at  liberty,  alone  and  defenseless  in  the 
forest,  surrounded  by  wild  beasts  that  were  ready  to  de- 
vour us.  The  anxiety  of  our  minds  drove  sleep  from  our 
eyelids ;  and  it  was  with  a  dreadful  hope  and  painful 
impatience  that  we  waited  for  the  morning  to  determine 
our  fate. 

The  morning  at  length  arrived,  and  our  masters  came 
early  and  let  us  out  of  the  house,  and  gave  the  young 
man  and  boy  to  the  French,  who  immediately  took  them 


M  \H\    BEING    IERAYED   IN    IMU\N    COSTI   Ml.. 


DKH-HB-Wl-mSt  h~* 

away.    IMrftta  I  MTV  leaned,  as  I  have  not 
nor  hoard  of  them  sin< 
I  wai  ww  left  alone  iii  the  fort,  deprived  of  my  former 

companions,  ami  of  every  thing  thai  was  near  or  dear  to 
me  luit    life.     Hut    it  was  not  long   before    1  was    in  - 

measure  relieved  by  the  appearance  of  two  pleasant* 
looking  ■qnaws,   of  the   Seneca  tribe,   who  oame  and 

examined  me  attentively  for  a  short  time,  and  then  went 
out.  After  a  few  minutes'  absence,  they  returned  in  com- 
pany with  my  former  masters,  who  gaye  me  to  the  squaws 

f  as  they  pleased. 

The  Indians  by  whom  I  was  taken  were  a  party  of 
Shawnees,*  if  I  remember  right,  that  lived,  when  at 
home,  a  long  distance  down  the  Ohio. 

My  former  Indian  masters  and  the  two  squaws  1 
soon  ready  t«»  leave  the  fort, and  accordingly  embarked  — 
the  Indians  in  a  large  canoe,  and  the  two  squaws  and 
myself  in  a  small  one  —  and  went  down  the  Ohio.  When 
we  set  off,  an  Indian  in  the  forward  canoe  took  the  scalps 
of   my   former   friends,   strong   them   on  a   pole   that    ho 

*  The  home  country  of  the  Shawnecs,  at  the  period  of  colonization 
Lv  the  Km opmni,  was  in  the  ireftara  part  of  the  pn  .'•■  "f 

Kentucky.     They  are  thai   lonted  by  Atari  (Jallatin,  on  his  map  of 
the  sites  of  the  Indian  triOM  of  kb<  ('untinent,  pobBthad  in  the  s.-cuiid 
volume  of  the   "Transactions  of  the  American  Ethnological 
The  name  of  this  nation  in   the  Seneca  dialect  of   the  Iroquois  lan- 
guage id  Sa-wii-no-o-no. — [Ed. 


56  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEM1SOX. 

placed  upon  his  shoulder,  aud  in  that  manner  carried 
them,  standing  in  the  stern  of  the  canoe  directly  before 
us,  as  we  sailed  down  the  river,  to  the  town  where  the 
two  squaws  resided. 

On  the  way  we  passed  a  Shawnee  town,  where  I  saw 
a  number  of  heads,  arms,  legs,  and  other  fragments  of  the 
bodies  of  some  white  people  who  had  just  been  burned. 
The  parts  that  remained  were  hanging  on  a  pole,  which 
was  supported  at  each  end  by  a  crotch  stuck  in  the 
ground,  and  were  roasted  or  burnt  black  as  a  coal.  The 
fire  was  yet  burning  ;  and  the  whole  appearance  afforded 
a  spectacle  so  shocking  that  even  to  this  day  the  blood 
almost  curdles  in  my  veins  when  I  think  of  them. 

At  night  we  arrived  at  a  small  Seneca  Indian  town, 
at  the  mouth  of  a  small  river  that  was  called  by  the 
Indians,  in  the  Seneca  language,  She-nan-jee,  about 
eighty  miles  by  water  from  the  fort,  where  the  two 
squaws  to  whom  I  belonged  resided.  There  we  landed, 
and  the  Indians  went  on ;  which  was  the  last  I  ever  saw 
of  them. 

Having  made  fast  to  the  shore,  the  squaws  left  me  in 
the  canoe  while  they  went  to  their  wigwam  or  house  in 
the  town,  and  returned  with  a  suit  of  Indian  clothing,  all 
new,  and  very  clean  and  nice.  My  clothes,  though  whole 
and  good  when  I  was  taken,  were  now  torn  in  pieces,  so 
that  I  was  almost  naked.    They  first  undressed  me,  and 


i>rii-in:-\v.\-Mis. 

throw  my  rags  into  the  river;  then  wished  XM  clean 
dressed  dm  in  (he  new  suit  they  had  just  brought,  in 
complete  [ndian  style;  tad  then  1  *- « 1  dm  dodm  and  seated 
dm  Id  the  oenter  of  their  wigwam. 

I  had  been  in  that  situation  but  a  few  minutes  before 
all  the  SqoaWB  in  the  town  came  in  to  MS  me.  I  was 
soon  surrounded  by  them,  and  they  immediately  Bel  up  a 
most  dismal  howling,  crying  bitterly,  and  wringing  their 
hands  in  all  the  agonies  of  grief  for  a  deceased  relative. 

Their  tears  flowed  freely,  and  they  exhibited  all  the 
-  of  real  mourning.  At  the  commencement  of  this 
scene,  one  of  their  number  began,  in  a  voice  somewhat 
between  speaking  and  singing,  to  recite  some  words  to 
the  following  purport,  and  continued  the  recitation  till 
the  ceremony  was  ended  ;  the  company  at  the  same  time 
varying  the  appearance  of  their  countenances,  gestures, 
and  tone  of  voice,  so  as  to  correspond  with  the  senti- 
ments expressed  by  their  leader. 

"  Oh,  our  brother  !  alas  !  he  is  dead  —  he  has  gone ;  he 

will  never  return  !     Friendless,  he  died  on  the  field  of  the 

slain,  where  his  bones  an-  \et  lying  unburied  !     Oh!  who 

will  not  mourn  his  sad  late  |     No  tears  dropped  around 

him:  oh,  no!     No  tears  of  his  sisters  were  there!     lie 

fell  in  his  prime,  when  his  arm  was  nn»t    needed  to  keep 

us  from  danger !     Alas  !  he  has  gone,  and  left  us  in  sor- 

row,  his  loss  to  bewail !     Oh,  where  is  his  spirit  /     His 
3« 


68  LIFE    OF  MARY   JEMISOX. 

spirit  went  naked,  and  hungry  it  wanders,  and  thirsty 
and  wounded,  it  groans  to  return !  Oh,  helpless  and 
wretched,  our  brother  has  gone !  No  blanket  nor  food 
to  nourish  and  warm  him ;  nor  candles  to  light  him,  nor 
weapons  of  war  !  Oh,  none  of  those  comforts  had  he ! 
But  well  we  remember  his  deeds !  The  deer  he  could 
take  on  the  chase  !     The  panther  shrunk  back  at  the 

i 

sight  of  his  strength  !  His  enemies  fell  at  his  feet !  He 
was  brave  and  courageous  in  war !  As  the  fawn,  he  was 
harmless ;  his  friendship  was  ardent ;  his  temper  was 
gentle ;  his  pity  was  great !  Oh  !  our  friend,  our  com- 
panion, is  dead !  Our  brother,  our  brother !  alas,  he  is 
gone !  But  why  do  we  grieve  for  his  loss  1  In  the 
strength  of  a  warrior,  undaunted  he  left  us,  to  fight  by 
the  side  of  the  chiefs !  His  warwhoop  was  shrill !  His 
rifle  well  aimed  laid  his  enemies  low :  his  tomahawk 
drank  of  their  blood :  and  his  knife  flayed  their  scalps 
while  yet  covered  with  gore  !  And  why  do  we  mourn  1 
Though  he  fell  on  the  field  of  the  slain,  with  glory  he  fell ; 
and  his  spirit  went  up  to  the  land  of  his  fathers  in  war ! 
Then  why  do  we  mourn  ?  With  transports  of  joy,  they 
received  him,  and  fed  him,  and  clothed  him,  and  welcomed 
him  there  !  Oh,  friends,  he  is  happy ;  then  dry  up  your 
tears !  His  spirit  has  seen  our  distress,  and  sent  us  a 
helper  whom  with  pleasure  we  greet.  Deh-he-wa-mis  has 
come  :  then  let  us  receive  her  with  joy  !  —  she  is  hand- 


D&H-HB-WA-MI& 

some  and  pleasant!       <  >h  !   -he  is  OUT  sister,  and  gladly 

welcome   her    here.      In    tin-   place  of  our  brother  she 

stands   in   our  tribe.      With   OaW  W6  will   e/uard   her   from 

trouble ;  and  may  she  be  happy  till  berspirit  ihall  leave  us." 

In  the  course  of  that    ceremony,  from  mourning  they 

heraine  >civiK\ — j«»y  sparkled  in  their  countenances,  and 

they  loomed  to  rejoice  over  me  u  oyer  a  Long-lost  child 
J  was  made  welcome  among  them  as  a  sista|  to  the  two 

squaws  before  mentioned,  and  was  called  I  )ch-he-wii-mis  ; 

which,  being  interpreted,  signifies  a  pretty  girl,  a  handr 
some  girl,  or  a  pleasant,  good  thing.    Thai  is  tic  name 

by  Which  1  have  ever  since  been  called  by  the  Indians. 
I  afterward   learned  that  the  ceremony  1  at  that  time 
sd  through  was  thai  of  adoption.    The  two  squaws 
bad  lost  a  brother  in  Washington's  war,  sometime  in  the 

>ear  before,  and  in  Consequence  of  his,  death  went  up  to 

Du  Qoesne  on  the  day  on  which  I  arrived  there,  in 
r  to  receive  a  prisoner,  or  an  enemy's  scalp,  to  supply 

their  loss.  Jt  is  a  custom  of  the  Indians,  when  one  of 
their  Dumber  is  slain  or  taken  prisoner  in  battle,  to  give 

to  the  nearesi  relative  of  tin*  dead  or  ahsciit   a  prisoner, 

if  they  have  chanced  to  take  one;  and  if  not,  to  give  him 

the  scalp  of  an  enemy.  On  the  return  of  the  Indians 
from  the  cm, nest,  which  is  always  announced  by  peculiar 
shorn  demonstrations  of  Joy,  and  the  exhibition  of 

some  trophy  of  victory,  the  mourners  come  forward  and 


60  LIFE   OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

make  their  claims.  If  they  receive  a  prisoner,  it  is  at 
their  option  either  to  satiate  their  vengeance  by  taking 
his  life  in  the  most  cruel  manner  they  can  conceive  of, 
or  to  receive  and  adopt  him  into  the  family,  in  the 
place  of  him  whom  they  have  lost.  All  the  prisoners 
that  are  taken  in  battle  and  carried  to  the  encampment 
or  town  by  the  Indians  are  given  to  the  bereaved  families, 
till  their  number  is  good.  And  unless  the  mourners  have 
but  just  received  the  news  of  their  bereavement,  and  are 
under  the  operation  of  a  paroxysm  of  grief,  anger,  or  re- 
venge; or,  unless  the  prisoner  is  very  old,  sickly,  or 
homely,  they  generally  save  them,  and  treat  them  kindly. 
But  if  their  mental  wound  is  fresh,  their  loss  so  great 
that  they  deem  it  irreparable,  or  if  their  prisoner  or  pris- 
oners do  not  meet  their  approbation,  no  torture,  let  it  be 
ever  so  cruel,  seems  sufficient  to  make  them  satisfaction. 
It  is  family  and  not  national  sacrifices  among  the  In- 
dians, that  has  given  them  an  indelible  stamp  as  bar- 
barians, and  identified  their  character  with  the  idea 
which  is  generally  formed  of  unfeeling  ferocity  and  the 
most  barbarous  cruelty. 

It  was  my  happy  lot  to  be  accepted  for  adoption.  At 
the  time  of  the  ceremony  I  was  received  by  the  two 
squaws  to  supply  the  place  of  their  brother  in  the  family ; 
and  I  was  ever  considered  and  treated  by  them  as  a  real 
sister,  the  same  as  though  I  had  been  born  of  their  mother. 


i>i:ii-]n:-\v  Y-Mis.  »;i 

During  the  ceremony  of  my  adoption,  I  sat  motionless, 

nearly  terrified  to  death  at  the  ■ppnereeno  and  iotkmi  of 
the  Dompeny,  expeoting  every  moment  ta  feel  their  ree> 

gpeilOO.  and  sutler  deatli  on  the  spot.  I  was.  li  .\v«\.r, 
hardly  disappointed  ;  when  at  tin-  olOM  of  the  rrrniiony 
the  company  retired,  and  my  sisters  OOmmeBOed  employ- 
ing every  means  for  my  consolation  and  eumfort  * 

•  "The  Iroquois  never  exchanged  prisoners  with  Indian  nations, 
nor  ever  sought  to  reclaim  their  own  people  from  captivity  among 
thnn.  Adoption  or  the  torture  were  the  alternative  chances  of  the 
captive.  *  *  *  A  regular  ceremony  of  adoption  was  performed 
in  each  case  to  complete  the  naturalization.  With  captives  this 
mony  was  the  gauntlet,  after  which  new  names  were  assigned  to  them. 
Upon  the  return  of  a  war  party  with  captives,  if  they  had  lust  any  of 
their  own  number  in  the  expedition,  the  families  to  which  these  be- 
longed were  first  allowed  an  opportunity  to  supply  from  the  captives 
the  places  made  vacant  in  their  household.  Any  family  could  then 
adopt  out  of  the  residue  any  such  as  chanced  to  attract  their  favorable 
notice,  or  whom  they  wished  to  save.  At  the  time  appointed,  the 
women  and  children  of  the  village  arranged  themselves  in  two  parallel 
rows  just  without  the  village,  each  one  having  a  whip  with  whieh  to 
lash  the  captives  as  they  pawed  between  the  lines.  Tlie  male  cap- 
.  who  alone  were  required  to  undergo  this  test  of  their  powers 
of  endurance,  were  brought  out,  and  each  oue  was  shown  in  turn  the 
bouse  in  which  he  was  to  take  refuge,  and  which  was  to  be  his  future 
home  if  he  passed  soccepsfully  through  the  ordeal.  They  were  then 
taken  to  :.  .  of  lOftl  long  av.nue  of  whips,  and  were  compelled, 

one  after  another,  to  run  through  it  for  their  lives,  and  for  the  enter- 
tainment of  the  surrounding  throng,  exposed  at  every  s-t-  p,  unde- 
fended, and  with  nuked  bark?,  to  the  merciless  infliction  of  the  whip. 
Tho»e  who  fell  from  exhaustion  were  immediately  dispatched,  as  un- 


62  LIFE   OF    MARY   JEMISON. 

Being  now  settled  and  provided  with  a  home,  I  was 
employed  in  nursing  the  children,  and  doing  light  work 
about  the  house.  Occasionally,  I  was  sent  out  with  the 
Indian  hunters,  when  they  went  but  a  short  distance,  to 
help  them  carry  their  game.  My  situation  was  easy ;  I 
had  no  particular  hardships  to  endure.  But  still,  the 
recollection  of  my  parents,  my  brothers  and  sisters,  my 
home,  and  my  own  captivity,  destroyed  my  happiness, 
and  made  me  constantly  solitary,  lonesome,  and  gloomy. 

My  sisters  would  not  allow  me  to  speak  English  in 
their  hearing ;  but  remembering  the  charge  that  my  dear 
mother  gave  me  at  the  time  I  left  her,  whenever  I 
chanced  to  be  alone  I  made  a  business  of  repeating  my 
prayer,  catechism,  or  something  I  had  learned,  in  order 
that  I  might  not  forget  my  own  language.  By  practicing 
in  that  way,  I  retained  it  till  I  came  to  Genesee  flats, 
where  I  soon  became  acquainted  with  English  people, 
with  whom  I  have  been  almost  daily  in  the  habit  of 
conversing. 

worthy  to  be  saved ;  but  those  who  emerged  in  safety  from  this  test 
of  their  physical  energies  were  from  that  moment  treated  with  the 
utmost  affection  and  kindness.  "When  the  perils  of  the  gauntlet  were 
over,  the  captive  ceased  to  be  an  enemy,  and  became  an  Iroquois. 
Not  only  so,  but  he  was  received  into  the  family  by  which  he  was 
adopted,  with  all  the  cordiality  of  affection,  and  into  all  the  relations 
of  the  one  whose  place  he  was  henceforth  to  occupy." — League  of 
the  Iroquois,  p.  342. 


i>i:ii-iii:-\va-mis. 

My   si<i<-rs   were   very   diligent    in   teaching   me   their 

language;  and  to  their  great  satiafaotioii,  I  soon  leaned 

thai    I   could  understand    it    readily,  and  speak   it 

fluently.     I   was   wry   fortunate    In   felling   Into    their 

hands;  for  they  were  kind,  good-natured  women;  \» 

aide  and  mild  in  their  dispOSitiOM  ;   temperate  and  decent 

in  their  habits,  and  very  tender  and  gentle  toward  me. 
I  have  great  reason  to  respect  them,  though  they  have 

been  dead  a  great  number  of  yean. 

6    town   where    they  lived    was    pleasantly   situated 
on   the   Ohio,   at  the   mouth   of  the    Bhenanjee,     The 

land  produced  good  corn;  the  woods  furnished  plenty 
of  game,  and  the  waters  abounded  with  fish.  Another 
river  emptied  itself  into  the  Ohio,  directly  opposite 
the*  mouth  of  the  Shenanjee.  We  spent  the  summer 
at  that  place,  where  we  planted,  hoed,  and  harvested  a 
large  crop  of  com,  of  excellent  quality. 

About  the  time  of  our  corn  harvest,  Fort  Du  Qneene 
was  taken  from  the  French  by  the  English,  and  called 
Fort  Pitt. 

The  corn  being  harvested,  the  Indians  took  it  on  horses 
and  in  canoes,  and  with  us  proceeded  down  the  Ohio, 
-ionally  stopping  to  hunt  a  lew  days,  till  we  arrived 
at  the  mouth  of  Bciota  river;  where  they  established 
their  winter  quarters,  ami  continued  hunting  till  tin* 
ensuing    spring,    in    the  adjacent    wilderness.     While  at 


64  LIFE   OF   MARY  JEMISON. 

that  place,  I  went  with  the  other  children  to  assist  the 
hunters  to  bring  in  their  game.  The  forests  on  the 
Sciota  were  well  stocked  with  elk,  deer,  and  other  large 
animals ;  and  the  marshes  contained  large  numbers  of 
beaver,  muskrat,  etc.,  which  made  excellent  hunting  for 
the  Indians ;  who  depended,  for  their  meat,  upon  their 
success  in  taking  elk  and  deer ;  and  for  ammunition  and 
clothing,  upon  the  beaver,  muskrat,  and  other  furs  that 
they  could  take  in  addition  to  their  peltry. 

The  season  for  hunting  being  passed,  we  all  returned 
in  the  spring  to  the  mouth  of  the  river  Shenanjee,  to 
the  houses  and  fields  we  had  left  in  the  fall  before. 
There  we  again  planted  our  corn,  squashes,  and  beans,  on 
the  fields  that  we  occupied  the  preceding  summer. 

About  planting  time,  our  Indians  all  went  up  to  Fort 
Pitt,  to  make  peace  with  the  British,  and  took  me  with 
them.  We  landed  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river  from 
the  fort,  and  encamped  for  the  night.  Early  the  next 
morning  the  Indians  took  me  over  to  the  fort  to  see  the 
white  people  who  were  there.  It  was  then  that  my  heart 
bounded  to  be  liberated  from  the  Indians  and  to  be 
restored  to  my  friends  and  my  country.  The  white 
people  were  surprised  to  see  me  with  the  Indians,  endur- 
ing the  hardships  of  a  savage  life,  at  so  early  an  age,  and 
with  so  delicate  a  constitution  as  I  appeared  to  possess. 
They  asked  me  my  name ;  where  and  when  I  was  taken, 


DEII-HK-U'A-MIS.  ftfl 

and  appeared  very  much  interested  od  my  behalf  They 
were  continuing  tlieir  Inquiries,  when  my  sisteri  !><•< . 

alarmed,  and,   believing    I    should    be  taken   from   them, 

hurried   me  into   their  eai ,  and   rccrotsod   the  river  — 

took  their  bread  0H1  <>f  the  tire,  and  fled  with  me,  without 
stopping,  till  they  arrived  at  the  rivrr  Bhenanjee.  So 
great  was  their  tear  of  losing  me,  or  of  my  being  given 
up  in  the  treaty,  that  they  never  once  stopped  rowing  till 
they  got  home. 

Shortly  after  we  left  the  shore  opposite  the  fort.  AC  1 
was  informed  by  one  of  my  Indian  brothers,  the  white 
people  came  over  to  take  me  hack  ;  hut  after  considerable 
inquiry,  and  having  made  diligent  search  to  find  where  I 
was  hid,  they  returned  with  heavy  hearts.  Although  I 
had  then  been  with  the  Indians  something  over  a  year, 
and  had  become  considerably  habituated  to  their  mode 
of  living,  and  attached  to  my  sist.-rs,  the  sight  of  white 
people  who  could  speak  English  inspired  me  with  an  un- 
speakable anxiety  to  go  home  with  them,  and  share  in 
the  blessings  of  civilization.  My  sudden  departure  and 
escape  from  them  seemed  like  a  second  captivity,  and  for 
a  long  time  I  brooded  over  the  thoughts  of  my  miserable 
situation  with  almost  as  much  sorrow  and  dejection  as  I 
had  done  over  those  of  my  first  sufferings.  Time,  the 
destroyer  of  every  affection,  wore  away  my  unpleasant 


* 


GG  ■    LIFE   OP   MARY   JEMISOX. 

feelings,  and  I  became  as  contented  as  before.  "\Y  e  tended 
our  cornfields  through  the  summer;  and  after  we  had 
harvested  the  crop,  we  again  went  down  the  river  to  the 
hunting-grounds  on  the  Sciota,  where  we  spent  the 
winter,  as  we  had  done  the  winter  before. 

Early  in  the  spring,  we  sailed  up  the  Ohio  River  to  a 
place  that  the  Indians  called  Wi-ish-to,  where  one  river 
emptied  into  the  Ohio  on  one  side,  and  another  on  the 
other,  about  eighty  or  ninety  miles  above  the  mouth  of 
the  Sciota.  At  that  place  the  Indians  built  a  town,  and 
we  planted  corn. 

We  lived  three  summers  at  Wiishto,  and  spent  each 
winter  on  the  Sciota. 

The  first  summer  of  our  living  at  Wiishto,  a  party 
of  Delaware  Indians  came  up  the  river,  took  up  their 
residence,  and  lived  in  common  with  us.  They  brought 
five  white  prisoners  with  them,  who,  by  their  conversa- 
tion, made  my  situation  much  more  agreeable,  as  they 
could  all  speak  English.  I  have  forgotten  the  names  of 
all  of  them  except  one,  which  was  Priscilla  Ramsay. 
She  was  a  very  handsome,  good-natured  girl,  and  was 
married  soon  after  she  came  to  Wiishto,  to  Captain 
Little  Billy's  uncle,  who  went  with  her  on  a  visit  to  her 
friends  in  the  States.  Having  tarried  with  them  as  long 
as  she  wished  to,  she  returned  with  her  husband  to  Can- 
a-ah-tua,  where  he  died.     She,  after  his  death,  married  a 


DEH-HK-W  A-MIS  C,7 

white  man  by  tin-  hum  of  Nettles,  and  now  Uvea  with 
him,  if  she  is  Living,  on  Grand  River,  Upper  Canada. 
N.>t  long  after  the  Dclawares  came   t<»   live  with  Di 
WiiflhtO,  my  sisters  t<dd  nic  that   1  must  go  and  live  with 

one  of  them,  whose  name  was  Bhe-nin-jee.  Not  daring 
to  crone  them  or  disobey  their  commands,  with  a  great 
degree  of  reluctance  I  went ;  and  Sheninjee  and  1  wore 

married  ing  to  Indian  custom. 

Bheninjee  was  a  noble  man — large  in  stature,  elegant 
in  his  appearance, generotu  in  his  conduct,  courteous    in 

war,  a  friend  to  peace,  and  a  lover  of  justice,  lie  sup- 
ported  a  degree  of  dignity  far  above  his  rank,  and  merited 
and  received  the  confidence  and  friendship  of  all  the 
tribes  with  whom  he  was  acquainted.  Yet,  Sheninjee 
was  an  Indian.  The  idea  of  my  spending  my  days  witli 
him  at  first  seemed  perfectly  irreconcilable  to  my  feelings  ; 
but  his  good  nature,  generosity,  tenderness,  and  friendship 
toward  me,  soon  gained  my  affection;  and,  strange  as  it 
may  seem,  I  loved  him  !  To  me  he  was  ever  kind  in 
sickness,  and  always  treated  me  with  gentleness;  in  fact, 
lie  was  an  agreeable  hu.-band  and  a  coinf  »rtable  compan- 
ion. We  lived  happily  together  till  the  time  of  our  final 
i  rat  ion,  which  happened  two  or  three  years  after  our 
marriage. 

In  the  second  summer  of  my  living  at  WUtnte,  I  had 
a  child,  at  the  time  that  the  kernels  of  corn  first  appeared 


68  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISOX. 

on  the  cob.  When  I  was  taken  sick,  Sheninjee  was  ab- 
sent, and  I  was  sent  to  a  small  shed  on  the  bank  of  the 
river,  which  was  made  of  boughs,  where  I  was  obliged  to 
stay  till  my  husband  returned.  My  two  sisters,  who  were 
my  only  companions,  attended  me  ;  and  on  the  second  day 
of  my  confinement  my  child  was  born  ;  but  it  lived  only 
two  days.  It  was  a  girl ;  and  notwithstanding  the  short- 
ness of  the  time  that  I  possessed  it,  it  was  a  great  grief 
to  me  to  lose  it. 

After  the  birth  of  my  child  I  was  very  sick,  but  was 
not  allowed  to  go  into  the  house  for  two  weeks ;  when,  to 
my  great  joy,  Sheninjee  returned,  and  I  was  taken  in,  and 
as  comfortably  provided  for  as  our  situation  would  admit. 
My  disease  continued  to  increase  for  a  number  of  days ; 
and  I  became  so  far  reduced  that  my  recovery  was  de- 
spaired of  by  my  friends,  and  I  concluded  that  my  troubles 
would  soon  be  finished.  At  length,  however,  my  com- 
plaint took  a  favorable  turn,  and  by  the  time  the  corn  was 
ripe  I  was  able  to  get  about.  I  continued  to  gain  my 
health,  and  in  the  fall  was  able  to  go  to  our  winter  quar- 
ters, on  the  Saratoga,  with  the  Indians. 

From  that  time  nothing  remarkable  occurred  to  me  till 
the  fourth  winter  of  my  captivity,  when  I  had  a  son  born, 
while  I  was  at  Sciota.  I  had  a  quick  recovery,  and  my 
child  was  healthy.  To  commemorate  the  name  of  my 
much-lamented  father,  I  called  my  son  Thomas  Jamison. 


PETMir.-w.v-Mls.  69 


CHAPTER   IV. 

Visits  Fort  Pitt  —  Desire   for  li!  ■  Labors  of  the  Indian 

females  —  Hen. oval  from  Wi-ish-to  to  the  Genesee  —  Meet  Shawnees 
who  had  murdered  two whitfl  men,  and  were  torturing  a  third- 
He  is  rescued   bj  Mary — Arrive  at  Little  Beard's  Town. 

Ill  the  spring,  when  Thomas  was  three  or  four  moons 
(mouths)  old,  we  returned  from  Seiota  to  "VYiishto,  and 

MM  after  set  out  to  go  to  Fort  Pitt,  to  dispose  of  our 
furs  and  skins  that  we  had  taken  in  the  winter,  and  pro- 
cure some  necessary  articles  for  the  use  of  our  family. 

I  had  then  been  with  the  Indians  four  summers  and 
fi-ur  winters,  and  had  become  so  far  accustomed  to  their 
mode  of  living,  habits,  and  dispositions,  that  my  anxiety  to 
gel  away,  to  be  s<  t  at  liberty  and  leave  them,  had  almost 
subsided.  With  them  WBfl  my  home;  my  family  was 
there,  and  there  I  had  many  friends  to  whom  I  was 
warmly  attached  in  consideration  of  the  favors,  affection, 
and  friendship  with  which  they  had  uniformity  treated 
from  the  time  of  my  adoption.  Our  labor  was  not 
re;  and  that  of  one  year  was  exactly  similar  in  almost 
every  respeet  to  that  of  the  others,  without  that  endless 
variety  ^iut  is  to  be  observed  iu  the  common  labor  of  the 


70  LIFE    OF    MARY    J  EMI  SON. 

white  people.  Notwithstanding  the  Indian  women  have 
all  the  fuel  and  bread  to  procure,  and  the  cooking  to 
perform,  their  task  is  probably  not  harder  than  that 
of  white  women,  who  have  those  articles  provided  for 
them;  and  their  cares  certainly  are  not  half  as  numerous, 
nor  as  great.  In  the  summer  season,  we  planted,  tended, 
and  harvested  our  corn,  and  generally  had  all  our  children 
with  us;  but  had  no  master  to  oversee  or  drive  us,  so 
that  we  could  work  as  leisurely  as  we  pleased.  We  had 
no  plows  on  the  Ohio,  but  performed  the  whole  process 
of  planting  and  hoeing  with  a  small  tool  that  resem- 
J'led,  in  some  respects,  a  hoe  with  a  very  short  handle. 

"Vv'e  pursued  our  farming  business  according  to  the  gen- 
eral custom  of  Indian  women,  which  is  as  follows :  In 
order  to  expedite  their  business,  and  at  the  same  time 
enjoy  each  other's  company,  they  all  work  together  in  one 
field,  or  at  whatever  job  they  may  have  on  hand.  In  the 
spring,  they  choose  an  old  active  squaw  to  be  their  driver 
and  overseer,  when  at  labor,  for  the.  ensuing  year.  She 
accepts  the  honor,  and  they  consider  themselves  bound  to 
obey  her. 

When  the  time  for  planting  arrives,  and  the  soil  is  pre- 
pared, the  squaws  are  assembled  in  the  morniDg,  and  con- 
ducted into  a  field,  where  each  plants  one  row.  They 
then  go  into  the  next  field  and  plant  once  across,  and  so 
on  till  they  have  gone  through  the  tribe.     If  any  remains 


i  »i:h-iii-:-\\  -.\-Mi5.  7t 

to  be  planted,  they  again  commence  ■where  they  did  at 
first,  (in  the  same  field,)  and  bo  keep  on  till  tin-  whole  is 

finished.  By  this  rule,  they  perlbrai  their  labor  of  every 
kind,  and  every  jealousy  of  one  having  done  more  or  leM 
than  another  is  effectually  avoided. 

Each  squaw  cuts,  her  own  wood  ;  bat  it  is  all  brought 
to  the  house  under  the  direction  of  the  overseer. 

Their  method  of  computing  time  was  by  moons  and 
winters:  a  moon  is  a  month;  and  the  time  from  the  end 
of  one  winter  to  that  of  another,  a  year. 

From  sunset  till  sunrise,  they  say  that  the  sun  is  asleep. 
In  the  old  of  the  moon,  when  it  does  not  shine  in  the 
night,  they  say  it  is  dead.  They  rejoice  greatly  at  the 
sight  of  the  new  moon. 

In  order  to  commemorate  great  events,  and  preserve 
the  chronology  of  them,  the  war  chief  in  each  tribe  keeps 
a  war-post.  This  post  is  a  peeled  stick  of  timber  ten  or 
twelve  feet  high,  that  is  erected  in  the  town.  For  a  cam- 
paign, they  make,  or  rather  the  chief  makes,  a  perpen- 
dicular red  mark,  about  three  inches  long  and  half  an  inch 
wide;  on  the  opposite  side  from  this,  for  a  scalp,  they 
make  a  red  cross,  thus,  + ;  on  another  side,  for  a  prisoner 
taken  alive,  they  make  a  red  0TO8B  in  this  manner,  X,  with 
a  head,  or  dot  ;  and  by  placing  such  significant  hiero- 
glyphics in  so  conspicuous  a  situation,  they  are  enabled 


72  LIFE    OF    MARY   JEMISON. 

to  ascertain  with  great  certainty  the  time  and  circum- 
stances of  past  events. 

Hiokatoo  had  a  war-post,  on  which  was  recorded  his 
military  exploits,  and  oilier  things  that  he  thought  worth 
preserving. 

Our  cooking  consisted  in  pounding  our  corn  into  samp 
or  hominy,  boiling  the  hominy,  making  now  and  then  a 
cake  and  baking  it  in  the  ashes,  and  In  boiling  or  roasting 
our  venison.  As  our  cooking  and  eating  utensils  consisted 
of  a  hominy  block  and  pestle,  a  small  kettle,  a  knife  or 
two,  and  a  few  vessels  of  bark  or  wood,  it  required  but 
little  time  to  keep  them  in  order  for  use. 

Spinning,  weaving,  sewing,  stocking  knitting,  and  the 
like,  are  arts  which  have  never  been  practiced  in  the  Indian 
tribes  generally.  After  the  revolutionary  war,  I  learned 
to  sew,  so  that  I  could  make  my  own  clothing  after  a 
poor  fashion ;  but  I  have  been  wholly  ignorant  of  the  appli- 
cation of  the  other  domestic  arts  since  my  captivity.  In  the 
season  of  hunting,  it  was  our  business,  in  addition  to  our 
cooking,  to  bring  home  the  game  that  was  taken  by  the  In- 
dians, dress  it,  and  carefully  preserve  the  eatable  meat,  and 
prepare  or  dress  the  skius.  Our  clothing  was  fastened  to- 
gether with  strings  of  deerskin,  and  tied  on  with  the  same. 

In  that  manner  we  lived,  without  any  of  those  jealousies, 
quarrels,  and  revengeful  battles  between  families  and  indi- 


i»i:h-hi:-\va-mi<.  73 

viduals,  which  have  been  common  In  tho  Indian  tribes 
since  the  Introduction  of  ardent  spirits  among  them. 

The  oae  of  ardent  spirits  among  the  Indians,  and  a 
majority  of  the  attempts  which  have  been  made  to  civilize 
them  by  the  white  people,  have  constantly  made  them 
worse  and  worse;  increased  their  rices,  and  robbed  them 
of  many  of  their  virtues,  and  will  ultimately  produce  their 
extern. ination.    I  have  Been,  in  a  Dumber  of  instai 

the  effects  of  education  upon  BOme  of  ODI  Indians,  who 
taken,  when  VOUUg,  from  their  families,  and  pi 
hool  before  they  had  had  an  opportunity  to  contract 
many  Indian  habits,  and  there  kept  till  they  arrived  to 
manhood  ;  hut  I  have  never  Been  one  of  those  hut  was 
an  Indian  in  every  respect  after  he  returned.  Indians 
must  and  will  be  Indians,  In  spite  of  all  the  means  that 
can  be  used  to  instruct  them  in  the  arts  and  sciences. 

One  thiiiir  only  marred  my  happiness  while  I  lived  with 
them  on  the  Ohio,  and  that  was  the  recollection  that  I 
once  had  tender  parents,  and  a  home  that  I  loved. 
Aside  from  that  recollection,  which  could  not  have  exii 

i   been  taken  in  my  infamy.  I  should  have  been  con- 
tented  in  my  situation.     Notwithstanding  all  that  has 
Id  against  the  Indians,  in  consequence  of  their 
cruelties  t"  their  enemi< cruelties  that  I  have  w  Itni 

and   had  abundant    proof  of — it    is   a   fart   that   they   are 
naturally  kind,  tender,  and  peaceable  toward  their  friends. 


74  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

and  strictly  honest ;  and  that  those  cruelties  have  been 
practiced  only  upon  their  enemies,  according  to  their  idea 
of  justice. 

At  the  time  we  left  Wiishto,  it  was  impossible  for  me 
to  suppress  a  sigh  on  parting  with  those  who  had  truly 
been  my  friends  —  with  those  whom  I  had  every  rea- 
son to  respect.  On  account  of  a  part  of  our  family 
living  at  Genishau,  or  Genesee,  we  thought  it  doubtful 
whether  we  should  return  directly  from  Fort  Pitt,  or  go 
from  thence  on  a  visit  to  see  them. 

Our  company  consisted  of  my  husband,  my  two  Indian 
brothers,  my  little  son,  and  myself.  We  embarked  in  a 
canoe  that  was  large  enough  to  contain  ourselves  and  our 
effects,  and  proceeded  up  the  river. 

Nothing  remarkable  occurred  to  us  on  our  way,  till  we 
arrived  at  the  mouth  of  a  creek  which  Sheninjee  and  my 
brothers  said  was  the  outlet  of  Sandusky  Lake ;  where,  as 
they  said,  two  or  three  English  traders  in  fur  and  skins 
had  kept  a  trading-house  but  a  short  time  before,  though 
they  were  then  absent.  We  had  passed  the  trading-house 
but  a  short  distance  when  we  met  three  white  men  float- 
ing down  the  river,  with  the  appearance  of  having  been 
recently  murdered  by  the  Indians.  We  supposed  them 
to  be  the  bodies  of  the  traders  whose  stores  we  had  passed 
the  same  day.  Sheninjee  being  alarmed  for  fear  of  being 
apprehended  as  one  of  the  murderers,  if  he  should  go  on, 


DKH-UK-W  A-MIS.  75 

!vod  to  put  about  Immediately;  and  we  accordingly 

returned  to  When  the  tnden  had  lived,  and  then*  landed. 

At  the  trading-house  we  found  a  party  of  Shawnee  In- 
diana, who  had  lakes  a  young  White  man  prisoner,  and 
had  just  began  tD  torture  liim,  fur  the  sole  purpose  of. 
gratifying  their  cariosity  in  exalting  at  his  distress.  They 
at  first  made  him  stand  up,  while  they  slowly  pared  his 
ears,  and  split  them  into  strings.  They  tln-n  made  a 
number  of  Blight  incisions  in  his  face,  and  bound  him  on 
the  ground,  rolled  him  in  the  dirt,  and  tabbed  it  in  his 
wounds;  some  of  them  at  the  same  time  whipping  him 
with  small  rods.  The  poor  fellow  cried  for  mercy,  and 
Veiled  most  piteolisly. 

The  sight  of  his  distress  seemed  too  much  for  me  to 
endure.  I  begged  of  them  to  desist  —  I  entreated  them, 
with  tears,  to  release  him.  At  length  they  regarded  my 
mterooaoioBS,  and  teA  him  at  liberty.  He  was  shockingly 
distigured,  bled  profusely,  and  appeared  to  be  in  great  pain ; 
but  as  MOB  if  he  was  liberated,  he  made  off  in  haste, 
which  was  the  last  I  saw  of  him. 

We  SOOn  learned  that  the  same  party  of  Shawnees  had, 

but  a  few  hears  befae,  maaaaerad  the  three  white  traders 

Whom  we  -aw  on  the  river,  and  had  plundered  their  store. 
We,  however,  were  not  molested  by  them;  and,  after  a 

short  stay  at  that    place,  moved   up  the  (reek  about   forty 
miles  to  a  Shawnee  town,  which  the   Indians  called  Gaw- 


76  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

gush-shaw-ga,*  (which,  being  interpreted,  signifies  a  mask 
or  a  false  face.)  The  creek  that  we  went  up  was  called 
Candusky.  It  was  now  summer ;  and  having  tarried  a 
few  days  at  Gawgushshawga,  we  moved  on  up  the  creek 
to  a  place  that  was  called  Yish-kah-wa-na,  (meaning,  in 
English,  open  mouth.) 

As  I  have  before  observed,  the  family  to  which  I  be- 
longed was  part  of  a  tribe  of  Seneca  Indians,  who  lived 
at  that  time  at  a  place  called  Genishau,  from  the  name  of 
the  tribe  that  was  situated  on  a  river  of  the  same  name, 
which  is  now  called  Genesee.  The  word  Genishau  signi- 
fies a  shining,  clear,  or  open  placet  Those  of  us  who 
lived  on  the  Ohio  had  frequently  received  invitations  from 
those  at  Genishau,  by  one  of  my  brothers  who  usually 
went  and  returned  every  season,  to  come  and  live  with 
them  ;  and  my  two  sisters  had  been  gone  almost  two  years. 

While  we  were  at  Yishkahwana,  my  brother  arrived 
there  from  Genishau,  and  insisted  so  strenuously  upon  our 
going  home  with  him  that  my  two  brothers  concluded  to 
go,  and  to  take  me  with  them. 

*  G'd-gb-sa,  in  the  Seneca  dialect,  signifies  "  a  false  face,"  and  G'd- 
go-sa-ga  "the  place  of  the  false  face,"  which  is  doubtless  the  correct 
orthography  of  this  word. —  [Ed. 

f  Gen-nis'-he-yo  is  the  true  spelling.  It  signifies  "the  beautiful 
valley,"  from  which  the  river  takes  its  name.  The  adjective  w-yo, 
which  means  "grand,"  or  "beautiful,"  is  incorporated  in  the  word, 
and  thus  determines  its  signification. —  [Ed. 


deh-he-wa-mis.  77 

By  this  time  the  summer  was  gone,  and  the  time  for 
harvesting  eorn  had  arrived.  My  brothers,  for  fear  of  the 
rainy  season  setting  in  early,  thought  it  best  to  set  out 
immediately,  that  we  might  have  good  traveling.  She- 
ninjee  consented  to  have  me  go  with  my  brothers;  but 
concluded  to  go  down  the  river  himself,  with  some  fur 
and  skins  which  he  had  on  hand,  spend  the  winter  hunting 
with  his  friends,  and  come  to  me  in  the  spring  following. 

That  was  accordingly  agreed  upon,  and  Sheninjee  set 
out  for  Wiishto  ;  and  my  three  brothers  and  myself,  with 
my  little  son  on  my  back,  at  the  <-diiu-  time  set  out  for 
Genishau.  >Ve  came  on  to  Upper  Sandusky,  to  an  Indian 
town  which  we  found  deserted  by  its  inhabitants,  in  con- 
sequence of  their  having  recently  murdered  some  English 
traders,  who  resided  among  them.  That  town  was  owned 
and  had  been  occupied  by  Delaware  Indians,  who,  when 
they  left  it,  buried  their  provisions  in  the  earth,  in  order 
to  prevent  their  enemies  enjoying  them,  or  to  have  a 
supply  for  themselves  if  they  should  chance  to  return. 
My  brothers  understood  the  customs  of  the  Indians  when 
they  were  obliged  to  fly  from  their  enemies  ;  and,  suspect- 
ing that  their  corn,  at  least,  must  have  been  hid,  made 
diligent  search,  and  at  length  found  a  large  quantity  of  it, 
together  with  beans,  sugar,  and  honey,  so  carefully  buried 
that  it  wa9  completely  dry,  and  as  good  as  when  they 

left  it.    As  our  stock  of  provisions  was  scant  v,  we  con- 

D 


78  LIFE   OF    MARY   JEtflSON. 

sidered  ourselves  extremely  fortunate  in  rinding  so  season- 
able a  supply  with  so  little  trouble.  Having  caught  two 
or  three  horses  that  we  found  there,  and  furnished  our- 
selves with  a  good  store  of  food,  we  traveled  on  till  we 
came  to  the  mouth  of  French  creek,  where  we  hunted 
two  days,  and  from  thence  came  on  to  Connewango 
creek,  where  we  stayed  eight  or  ten  days,  in  consequence 
of  our  horses  having  left  us  and  strayed  into  the  woods. 
The  horses,  however,  were  found ;  and  we  again  prepared 
to  resume  our  journey.  During  our  stay  at  that  place 
the  rain  fell  fast,  and  had  raised  the  creek  to  such  a  hight 
that  it  was  seemingly  impossible  for  us  to  cross  it.  A 
number  of  times  we  ventured  in,  but  were  compelled  to 
return,  barely  escaping  with  our  lives.  At  length  we 
succeeded  in  swimming  our  horses,  and  reached  the  oppo- 
site shore ;  though  I  and  my  little  boy  but  just  escaped 
from  being  drowned.  From  Sandusky,  the  path  that  we 
traveled  was  crooked  and  obscure ;  but  was  tolerably 
well  understood  by  my  oldest  brother,  who  had  traveled 
it  a  number  of  times  when  going  to  and  returning  from 
the  Cherokee  wars.  The  fall  by  this  time  was  consider- 
ably advanced,  and  the  rains,  attended  with  cold  winds, 
continued  daily  to  increase  the  difficulties  of  traveling. 
From  Connewango  we  came  to  a  place,  called  by  the 
Indians  Che-ua-shung-gau-tau,  on  the  Alleghany  River,  at 
the  mouth  of  what  is  now  called  Cold  Spring  creek,  in  the 


1)i:ii-iii:-wa-mis.  79 

town  of  Xapoli,  Cattaraugus  count}',  state  of  New  York, 
and  from  that  to  U-na-waum-gwa,  or  Tu-ne-un-gwan, 
(which  means  an  eddy,  not  strong,)  where  the  early  fm>ts 
had  destroyed  the  com,  so  that  the  Indians  were  in 
danger  of  starving  for  the  want  of  bread.  Having  r< 
ourselves  two  days  at  that  place,  we  came  on  to  Canea- 
dea*  and  stayed  one  day,  and  then  continued  our  march 
until  we  arrived  at  Little  Beard's  Town,  in  CJ»-ni>hau,  at 
that  time  a  large  Seneca  town,  thickly  inhabited. 

Those  only  who  have  traveled  on  foot  the  distance  of 
five  or  six  hundred  miles,  through  an  almost  pathless 
wilderness,  can  form  any  idea  of  the  fatigue  and  suffer- 
ings that  I  endured  on  that  journey.  My  clothing  was 
thin,  and  illy  calculated  to  defend  me  from  the  continually 
drenching  rains  with  which  I  was  daily  completely  wet ; 
and  at  night,  with  nothing  but  my  wet  blanket  to  cover 
me,  I  had  to  sleep  on  the  naked  ground,  and  generally 
without  a  shelter,  save  such  as  nature  provided.  In  addi- 
tion to  all  that,  I  had  to  carry  my  child,  then  about  nine 
months  old,  every  step  of  the  journey  on  my  back,  or  in 
my  arms,  and  provide  for  his  comfort  and  prevent  his 
suffering,  as  far  as  my  poverty  of  means  would  admit. 
Such  was  the  fatigue  that  I  sometimes  felt,  that  I  thought 
it  impossible  for  me  to  go  through,  and  I  would  almost 

*  Caneadea  is  a  well-preserved  Seneca  name.  The  original,  Ga-6-y'd- 
de-o,  signifies  "where  the  heavens  rest  upon  the  earth." —  [Ed. 


80  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

abandon  the  idea  of  even  trying  to  proceed.  My  brothers 
were  attentive,  and  at  length,  as  I  have  stated,  we  reached 
our  place  of  destination,  in  good  health,  and  without  hav- 
ing experienced  a  day's  sickness  from  the  time  we  left 
Yishkahwana. 

We  were  kindly  received  by  my  Indian  mother  and  the 
other  members  of  the  family,  who  appeared  to  make  me 
welcome ;  and  my  two  sisters,  whom  I  had  not  seen  in 
two  years,  received  me  with  every  expression  of  love  and 
friendship ;  and  that  they  really  felt  what  they  expressed,  ^ 
I  have  never  had  the  least  reason  to  doubt.  The  warmth 
of  their  feelings,  the  kind  reception  which  I  met  with,  and 
the  continued  favors  that  I  received  at  their  hands,  riveted 
my  affection  for  them  so  strongly  that  I  am  constrained 
to  believe  that  I  loved  them  as  I  should  have  loved  my 
own  sister,  had  she  lived,  and  had  I  been  brought  up 
with  her. 


DEH-HE-WA-MIS.  81 


CHAPTER  V.* 

Geographical  names  —  Dialects  of  the  Iroquois  —  Little  Beard's  Town  — 
The  Genesee  Valley  —  Land  slide  —  Gardeau  Flats  —  Subsequently 
Mary  Jenii.-on  Reservation  —  Mount  Morris  —  Big  Tree  Village  — 
Caneadea. 

Having  conducted  the  principal  subject  of  our  narra- 
tive to  Genishau,  or  Little  Beard's  Town,t  on  the  banks 
of  Genesee  River,  whereon,  within  the  space  of  twelvo 
miles  along  that  stream,  she  has  since  resided  seventy-two 
years  of  her  life  —  this  likewise  being  the  ground  on  which 
most  of  the  scenes  we  are  about  to  relate,  whether  of  joy 
or  sorrow,  pleasure  or  pain,  whether  ludicrous  or  horrible, 
were  enacted  —  we  will  give  the  reader  a  brief  geograph- 
ical sketch  of  the  country,  and  point  out  the  localities, 
and  those  in  the  surrounding  country,  most  of  which  have 
already  been,  or  will  hereafter  be,  referred  to  in  this 
narrative. 

It  will  be  understood,  that,  in  describing  Indian  villages, 

*  This  chapter  was  added  by  Ebenezer  Mix,  Esq.  —  [Ed. 

f  The  name  of  Little  Beard's  Town  was  Dc-o-nun-d'd-pa-a,  signify- 
ing "Where  the  hill  is  near."  It  was  situated  upon  the  west  side  of 
the  Genesee  Vallev,  immediately  in  front  of  Cuyleryille.  —  [Ed. 

4« 


LIFE    OF   MABY   JEMISON. 

etc.,  we  have  relation  to  their  state  then;  for  some  of 
them  have  long  since  been  deserted  by  the  Indians,  and 
demolished  by  the  whites;  and  at  this  time,  1842,  all 
those  on  the  Genesee  Kiver  have  ceased  to  exist,  scarce 
leaving  a  memorial  or  trace  to  point  out  the  spot  on  which 
they  stood.  It  will  likewise  be  observed  that  the  dis- 
tances herein  given  are  according  to  the  Indian  trails  or 
paths  usually  traveled  by  them  in  that  early  day. 

A  few  remarks  on  Indian  names  and  the  Indian  lan- 
guage, in  this  place,  may  be  serviceable  to  the  reader 
who  is  unacquainted  with  the  significant  properties  of 
Indian  proper  names,  and  the  monotonous  sounds  and  full 
aspirations  of  the  language  of  the  Iroquois.  It  has  been 
often  observed  that  a  great  discrepancy  exists  among 
writers,  not  only  in  the  spelling,  but  in  the  necessary 
pronunciation  of  Indian  names  of  the  same  persons  or 
places.  It  requires  but  a  short  explanation  to  elucidate 
the  cause  of  this  difficulty.  Among  the  Six  Nations,  not 
only  each  nation  converses  in  a  different  dialect,  but  each 
tribe  in  the  same  nation  have  peculiarities  in  their  lan- 
guage not  common  in  the  other  tribes,  although  probably 
not  varying  more  than  the  dialects  in  many  of  the  counties 
in  England. 

All  Indian  names,  whether  of  persons  or  places,  are 
significant  of  some  supposed  quality,  appearance,  or  local 
situation;   and  the  Indians  having  no  written  language 


I>I   ll-IH.-W 

originally,  denominated  persona  and  placet  in  conformity 

to  such  quality,  cic,  in  their  OWB  dialect. 

The  battel  to  lie  understood,  we  will  incnl'iMii  a  partic- 
ular case  nr  two,  which  will  ;_ri\e  a  full  explanation  to 
the  position  assumed:  Red  Jacket,  the  oelebrated  Indian 

<Tat<>r.  had  six  Off  MYta  diiVereut,  and   in   BOOM   inMai 

dissimilar    Indian    nanus,  as  wril  ten   QffSpokeD;   but 
they  all    meant,  in    the   dialect    to  which    they    beloi 
'< Keeper  Awake.*1    The  bum  remarks  will  epply  to  the 
name    of   the    creek   which    empties  into   Geneeee    Kiver, 
near    Mount    .Morris,    generally  called    Canniakraii 
which  has  four  or  live  other  quite  different  Indian  names, 
all   meaning  the   same,   in    English*   to   wit.   "Among  the 
Blippery-elme,"  ;>s  the   creek  bote  the  name  of  an  Indian 
village  through  which   it   paasedi  the  village  having  Keen 
named  from  its  local  situation. 
Theae  explanations  were  obtained  some  years  since, 

from  the  late  ("'apt.  Horatio  Jones,  who  was  one  of  the 
if  not  the  beat  Indian  linguist  in  the  countrx  :  ami 
vplanatiou  had  an  influential  bearing  in  an  important 
land  trial,  as  that  creek  had  been  called  by  several  very 
different  Indian  names  in  the  old  title-deeds  of  Urge 
tracts  of  land.      In   order  to  have  a  correct    idea  of  the 

*TI.  v  which  thi-i  creek  and  the  village  of  Pan-iville  i.<  now 

known    to    the     Sciieea.-*     h,    (/•i-mii-(jn-go>    signifying,    "among    the 
milkweed." — [Ed. 


Si  LIFE   OP  MARY   JEMISON. 

pronunciation  of  Indian  names,  they  must  be  divided  into 
as  many  monosyllabical  words  as  there  are  syllables,  for 
so  they  originally  were,  and  an  h  added  to  almost  every 
syllable  ending  with  a  vowel.  Therefore,  as  is  the  case 
in  the  pronunciation  of  all  sentences  composed  of  words 
of  one  syllable  only,  all  difference  of  accent  is  destroyed, 
and  the  Indians  use  very  little  difference  of  emphasis. 
For  example,  take  the  original  name  of  Canandaigua,  as 
now  spelled  and  pronounced  in  the  Seneca  language, 
Cah-nan-dah-gwah.  * 

Formerly,  in  using  Indian  names,  it  was  necessary  to 
pay  some  attention  to  the  Indian  pronunciation,  so  as  to 
be  understood  by  the  aborigines;  but  as  they,  together 
with  their  languages,  are  fast  fading  from  among  us,  that 
necessity  no  longer  exists.  Therefore,  it  becomes  neces- 
sary to  Anglicise  such  names,  and  make  them  conform  to 
the  English  pronunciation  in  as  soft  and  smooth  sounds 
as  possible,  to  which  the  letters  composing  the  word, 
when  written,  should  be  made  to  correspond. 

Little  Beard's  Town,  where  Mary  Jemison  first  resided 
when  she  came  to  Genesee  River,  was  the  most  consider- 
able Indian  village,  or  town,  in  its  vicinity.  We  have  no 
means  at  this  time  of  ascertaining,  or  even  estimating,  its 
extent  or  population ;  but  tradition,  as  well  as  Mary  Jem- 

* Ga-nun-da-gwa,  "a  place  selected  for  a  settlement, "  13  the  present 
spelling  and  pronunciation  of  this  name.  —  [Ed. 


DEH-HE-WA-MIS.  $5 

ison,  informs  us.  that  it  covered  I  large  territory  for  a  vil- 
lage, and  that  it  was  thickly  populated. 

Its  chief,  or  ruler,  was  Little  Heard  — a  strong-minded, 
ambitious,  and  eruel  man;  and  an  arbitrary  and  despotic 
ruler. 

TWa  vfllag  (1   near  the  north   end  of  the  twelve 

miles    in    length    heretofore  mentioned,  en  the  Genesee 
Flats,  on  the  west   side  of  the  river,  between  the  pre 
villages    ,,f     Genesee     and     IfosoOW,    about      midway, 
although  Beared   to  Moscow,  and  near  the  bite  of  the 
new  village  of  Cayler,  <>n  the  Genesee  Valley  Canal. 

The  tract  of  country  around  its  site  has  the  most 
delightful  appearance  imaginable,  considering  there  are 
no  lofty  snow-clad  peaks,  deafening  cataracts,  or  unfath- 
omable dells,  t"  Btamp  it  with  the  appellation  of  romantic. 
The  alluvial  Hats  through  which  the  river  meanders  for 
four  or  five  miles  above  and  many  miles  below  are  from 
One  Juilc  to  two  miles  wide,  as  level  as  a  placid  lake,  and 
IS  fertile,  to  Bay  the  least,  as  any  land  in  this  state.  Thou- 
sands of  acres  of  these  flats  were  cleared  "1*  their  timber 
when     Indian     tradition     commences     their    description. 

These  Hate  are  encompassed  on  each  side  by  a  rolling 
country,  gradually  rising  as  it  recedes  from  the  river,  but 
in  no  place**so  abrupt  as  to  merit  the  cognomen  of  a  hill. 
This  was  the  terrestrial  paradise  of  the  Senecas ;  and  to 
this  tract  thev  gave  the  name  of  Gen-ish-a-u,  Chen-ne- 


86  LIFE    OF    MARY    JEMISON. 

se-co,  Gen-ne-se-o,  or  Gen-ne-see,  as  pronounced  by  the 
different  Indian  tribes,  and  being  interpreted,  all  meaning 
substantially  the  same;  to  wit,  Shining-Clear-Opening, 
Pleasant-Clear-Opening,  Clear-Valley,  or  Pleasant-Open- 
Valley.  From  this  favorite  spot  Genesee  Hiver  took  its 
name ;  and  these  flats,  at  that  early  period,  assumed  and 
still  continue  to  retain  exclusively  the  name  of  Genesee 
Flats,  as  a  distinction  from  Gardeau,  Caneadea,  and 
other  flats  which  bear  local  names  although  lying  on  the 
same  river. 

Genesee  River  rises  in  Pennsylvania,  and,  after  enter- 
ing this  state,  pursues  its  course  with  some  rapidity,  a 
little  west  of  north,  through  a  hilly  country,  forming 
little,  if  any,  alluvial  flats,  until  it  approaches  Belvidere, 
(Judge  Church's  villa  near  Angelica,)  about  twenty  miles 
from  Pennsylvania  line.  From  thence  it  continues  the 
same  general  course  with  less  rapidity,  winding  its  way 
through  flats  of  a  greater  or  less  width,  to  a  point  in 
Caneadea,  about  thirty-three  miles  from  Pennsylvania 
line,  following  the  general  course  of  the  river,  where  it 
alters  to  east  of  north,  which  direction  it  pursues  until  it 
falls  into  Lake  Ontario.  From  Belvidere  to  this  bow,  or 
rather  angle  in  the  river,  and  from  the  angle  to  the  falls 
below  Portageville,  the  flats  are  enclosed  on  each  side  by 
high  lands,  although  not  precipitous  or  lofty.  The  river 
continues  to  run  with  moderate  rapidity  through   flats 


di:h-hi:-wa-mi>.  87 

from  this  angle  to  near  Portage ville,  where  the  highlands 
close  in  to  the  river  banks. 

At  Purl  age  ville.  about  fifteen   miles  from  the  angl. 
Caneadea,   begin    llie    great     Portage   Falls   in   thi<   r 
From   the    upper   falls   to    Mount   -Morris   and    Sqnawkfts 
Hill,  a  distance  of  sixteen  miles,  the  river  runs  through  a 
ehasin.  the  sides  of  whieh  are.  the  greater  part  of  the 
tamo,  formed  by  solid,  and  almost,  or  quite,  perpendicu- 
lar  walls  of  rock,  from  two  to  four  hundred  feet  high.     In 
some   places,    however,   these   walls   diverge  so  far  from 
each  other  *s  to  allow  spots  of  excellent  alluvial  flats  to 
be  formed  on  one  side  of  the  river  or  the  other,  and  in 
some  places  on  both. 

Immediately  above  the  upper  falls  there  exists  all  the 
appearance  of  a  ridge  of  rock  having  once  run  across  the 
river,  in  which  case  it  would  have  raised  the  water  some 
two  hundred  feet  above  its  present  level,  and,  of  COS 
formed  a  lake  from  one  to  two  miles  wide,  and  extending 
back  over  the  Caneadea  and  other  flats,  to  Belvideiv.  a 
distance  of  twenty-eight  or  thirty  miles;  but.  if  ever  this 
was  the  can',  the  river  has,  centuries  ago.  cut  through 
this  ad  formed  considerable  rapids  where  it  stood, 

above  and  opposite  Portageville.  The  river,  after  appar- 
ently cutting  through  this  ridge,  precipitates  itself  into 
the  chasm  below,  by  a  somewhat  broken,  although  what 
would  be  termed  perpendicular  fall  of  sixty-.six  feet.    The 


88  LIFE    OF    MAST   JEHISON. 

stream  at  this  place  is  about  twelve  rods  wide,  after 
which  it  flows  through  the  chasm  on  a  smooth  rock  bot- 
tom. Half  a  mile  below  the  upper  falls,  the  river,  (where 
it  is  about  fifteen  rods  wide,)  again  precipitates  itself  in 
an  unbroken  sheet,  one  hundred  and  ten  feet  perpendicu- 
larly into  a  deeper  channel,  forming  the  "Middle  Falls." 
The  magnificence  and  beauty  of  these  falls  is  not  exceeded 
by  any  thing  of  the  kind  in  the  state,  except  the  cataract 
of  Niagara.  On  the  west  side  of  the  river,  at  the  top  of 
the  falls,  is  a  small  flat  piece  of  land,  or  rather  rock,  on 
which  is  a  saw-mill  and  several  dwelling  houses,  which 
can  be  approached,  down  a  ravine  from  the  west,  with 
any  kind  of  carriage.  The  stream  pursues  its  course  in 
the  same  direction,  pent  within  its  rock-bound  and  pre- 
cipitous shores,  about  two  miles,  where  it  takes  its  third 
and  last  leap  in  this  vicinity,  of  ninety-three  feet,  into  a 
still  deeper  chasm,  the  greater  body  of  water  falling  on 
the  eastern  side,  where  a  portion  of  it  falls  into  a  kind  of 
hanging  rock  basin,  about  one-third  of  the  distance  down, 
and  then  takes  another  leap.  This  fall  can  be  approached 
on  the  east  side  by  pedestrians  with  perfect  safety. 

The  river  then  pursues  its  north-eastern  course,  through 
its  deep  and  narrow  channel,  to  Gardeau  Flats,  about  five 
miles  from  the  lower  falls.  The  banks  of  the  river,  or 
rather  the  land  bordering  on  the  chasm  the  greater  por- 
tion of  this  distance,  is  covered  with  elegant  white  and 


DBH-HI-Wi-MIS.  69 

Norway  ]»inc.     At  the  Upper  end  of  the  fiardeau  Flats  is 
the  Great  Slide,  which  has  been  bo  often  noticed  as  a 

jjreat  iiiriusity. 

In  the  month  of  May,  1817,  a  portion  Of  the  land  on 
the  \v«st  side  of  the  river,  thickly  covered  with  heavy 
timber,  suddenly  gave  way,  and  with  I  tremendous  crash 
slid  into  the  bed  of  the  river,  whirh  is  so  completely  filled 
that  the  stream  formed  a  new  channel  on  the  east  side  of 
it,  where  ii  eontinues  to  run.  This  slide,  as  it  now  lies, 
contains  twenty-two  acres,  and  has  a  considerable  sharo 
of  the  timber  that  formerly  covered  it  still  standing  erect 
and  growing,  although  it  has  suffered  the  shock  produced 
by  a  fall  of  some  two  hundred  feet  below  its  former 
elevation. 

The  Gardeau  Flats  are  from  eighty  to  one  hundred  and 
twenty  rods  wide,  and  extend  two  miles  and  a  quarter 
down  the  river,  lying  mostly  on  the  west  side  of  it.  There 
are  several  ravines  and  depressions  in  the  high  banks  on 
both  sides  of  the  river  at  the  upper  end  of  these  flats,  so 
that  a  road  has  been  made  which  admits  the  passage  of 
carriages  from  the  highlands  on  one  side  of  the  river  to 
the  highlands  on  the  other,  a  bridge  having  been  erected 
aCTOefl  the  rhrer:  this  place  above  the  slide  is  called  St. 
Helena.  Some  four  miles  below  St.  Helena  is  Smoky 
Hollow,  containing  from  two  to  three  hundred  acres  of 
alluvial  flats,  approachable  from  the  west  only  with  sa: 


90  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

and  in  that  direction  through  a  ravine  and  down  a  steep 
declivity  :  this  was  within  3Irs.  Jemison's  original  reser- 
vation. Below  this  place  three  or  four  miles,  the  river 
receives  the  outlet  of  Silver  Lake  *  This  lake  or  pond 
is  a  beautiful  pellucid  sheet  of  water,  three  and  a  half 
miles  long,  and  from  half  to  three-fourths  of  a  mile  in 
breadth,  lying  about  four  miles  west  of,  and  several  hun- 
dred feet  above  the  Genesee  Eiver,  thereby  creating  a 
vast  water-power  for  so  small  a  stream. 

Some  distance  below  the  entrance  of  the  outlet  of 
Silver  Lake  into  the  river,  is  from  twenty  to  twenty-five 
acres  of  alluvial  flats  in  a  perfect  dell.  It  was  purchased 
many  years  ago  by  a  man  who  now  resides  on  it,  although 
his  land  extends  over  the  high  bank,  and  includes  hand- 
some level  land  there.  It  is  certain  that  he  and  his 
family  do  go  in  and  out  of  this  dell,  and  that  he  gets  in 
cattle  and  other  domestic  animals ;  but  it  would  test  the 
science  of  an  engineer  to  ascertain  how  he  effects  it. 

At  the  distance  of  eleven  miles  from  St.  Helena  is 
Mount  Morris,t  on  the  right  or  eastern  side  of  the  river, 
and  Squawkie  Hill  on  the  left  or  western.  These  are  not 
mountains,  or  even  hills,  within  the  common  acceptance 

*  G'a-na-y'dt  —  Its  signification  is  lost. —  [Ed. 

f  The  name  of  Mount  Morris,  in  the  Seneca  dialect,  was  So-no'-jo- 
wan-ga.  This  was  the  name  of  Big  Kettle,  an  orator  not  less  distin- 
guished among  the  Senecas  than  Red  Jacket  himself.  —  [Ed. 


DBH-HS-Wl-XU.  91 

of  the  words,  but   merely  ad  ro  or  thro-  hun- 

dred feet,  and  thai  m»t  abrupt,  nor  is  \\<  existence  in 
particular  line  of  demarkation  obserrable,  from  the  upper 

plateau  of  land   through  which   the  depressed  channel  of 

ELiver  runs  down  to  Genesee  Flats. 

Prom  Mount  Morris  and  Squawkk  Hill,  where  the 
river  disgorgei  Itself  from  the  thraldom  of  its  rooky  and 
precipitous  banks,  it  mores  slowly,  taking  a  serpentine 
coarse  through  the  Genesee  and  other  flats:  the  high 

grounds  on  each  side  gradually  diminishing  in  night,  and 
alluvial  Hats  decreasing  in  width  in  proportion,  until 
the  stream  merely  Hows  in  its  shallow  channel  through  a 
champaign  country,  before  it  reaehes  the  great  falls  at 
Rochester,  near  forty  miles  from  Mount  Morris,  where, 
after  passing  the  rapids,  it  falls  ninety-six  feet  perpen- 
dicularly into  a  chasm  below,  through  which  it  flows 
and  a  half  miles  further,  and  then  pas-«  <  two 
more  perpendicular  falls,  within  a  short  distance  of  each 
other,  the  upper  one  of  twenty-five  feet,  and  the  lower  of 
eighty-four  feet.  At  the  foot  of  these  falls  the  river  be- 
comes navigable  for  steamboats,  and  runs  sluggishly  five 
miles  through  a  deep  ravine  a  portion  of  the  way  to  its 
mouth,  where  it  disembogues  itself  into  Lake  Ontarl 
Bigtree*  village,  which  bore  the  name  of  one  of  its  chiefs, 

•  The  word  Gd-un-do-vd-tia,  which  was  the  name  of  this  village, 
signifies  a  "  big  tree."  —  [Ed. 


92  LIFE   OP   MARY   JEMISOX. 

was  a  small  village  lying  a  mile  and  a  half  north  of  Little 
Beard's  Town.  Ten  miles  still  further  down  the  river 
was  situated  Cannewagus*  village,  a  place  of  some  note 
for  a  sub-village.  This  was  the  residence  of  the  patriarch 
Hot  Bread. 

Tonawanda  Indian  village,  whose  inhabitants  have 
always  been  remarkable  for  their  peaceable  and  quiet  dis- 
position, is  situated  on  the  Tonawanda  creek,  about  forty 
miles  north-west  of  Little  Beard's  Town,  on  the  great 
Indian  trail  from  east  to  west  passing  through  this 
country.  The  Great  Bend  of  the  Tonawanda  creek,  be- 
tween Little  Beard's  Town  and  the  Tonawanda  village, 
where  the  village  of  Batavia  now  stands,  was  a  noted 
camping-ground  for  the  Indians  while  passing  to  and  fro 
on  this  trail.  Still  further  north-west,  thirty-two  miles 
from  Tonawanda  village,  is  Tuscarora  village,  inhabited 
by  the  most  civilized,  agricultural,  mechanical,  and  com- 
mercial tribe  of  the  Six  Nations.  Lewiston  is  three  miles 
west  of  Tuscarora  village,  and  Fort  Niagara  is  seven 

*  The  Iroquois  still  retain  their  geographical  names  with  great 
fidelity.  As  their  proper  names  are  descriptive,  they  still  form  a  part 
of  their  language.  Wherever  an  American  village  sprang  up  on  one 
of  their  known  localities,  the  name  of  the  old  village  was  immediately 
transferred  to  the  new,  and  down  to  the  present  time  the  Iroquois  still 
call  them  by  their  original  names.  Thus,  G'd-no-wan-ges,  signifying 
M  Stinking  Water."  The  name  of  this  Indian  village  was  transferred 
to  Avon,  by  which  it  is  still  known  among  them'.  —  [Ed. 


DEII-HK-W  A-MI<. 

miles  north   of  Lewiston,  making   the  whole   mute   from 

Little  Beard's  Town  to  Fort  Niagara,  following  this  trail, 
eighty-two  miles.  Prom  Lewiston  teyea  miles  south  was 
Foil  Scblosser,  a  mere  Btookadefort;  the  Devfl'i  Hole 
being  about  midway  between  thoee  two  points,  I  i 
Boniossei  was  at  the  northern  termination  of  the  navi- 
gable  waters  of  the  Niagara  River  above  the  mils;  and 
this  seven  miles  from  Lewiston  to  Bchlossei  was  the 
only  plane  requiring  land  transportation  foi  men,  it 
or  merchandise,  from  Quebec  to  Fort  Mackinaw,  or  In- 
deed, from  the  Atlantic  Ooean  to  the  end  of  Lake  Supe- 
rior. These  forts,  therefore,  Niagara  and  Bohlosser,  were 
oensidered  very  important  by  tin-  contending  parties  in 
olden  times,  the  French  and  the  English. 

From  Tonawanda  village  about  twenty-live  miles  south- 
westerly lies  the  first  Indian  village  on  the  Buffalo 
creek,  along  which  and  its  several  branches  there  are  a 
number  of  Indian  villages  and  single  wigwams.  [Jp  the 
shore  of  Lake  Erie  in  a  south-western  direction,  about 
thirty-five  miles  from  Buffalo  creek,  is  the  village  of  Cat- 
taraugus, situated  on  the  creek  of  the  same  name,  two  or 
three  miles  from  its  mouth,  being  about  one  hundred 
miles  from  Little  Heard's  Town,  following  this  circuitous 
trail,  which  was  the  one  always  traveled  by  the  Ind: 
unless  an  experienced  runner  took  a  shorter  cut,  at  his 
own  hazard,  in  a  case  of  emergen 


94  LIFE    OF    MARY    JEMISON. 

East  of  Little  Beard's  Town  are  Conesus,  Hemlock, 
Candice,  Honeoye,  Canandaigua,  and  Seneca  lakes ;  five 
miles  west  of  the  foot  of  the  latter  stood  the  famous  In- 
dian and  tory  head-quarters,  called  the  "  Old  Castle." 
The  foot  of  Canandaigua  Lake  is  about  ten  miles  west  of 
the  Old  Castle,  and  thirty-four  miles  east  of  Little  Beard's 
Town. 

The  Indian  village  of  Can-ne-skrau-gah,  meaning 
"among  the  slippery-elms,"  was  situated  about  four- 
teen miles  south-easterly  of  Mount  Morris,  on  a  creek  of 
the  same  name,  which  empties  into  Genesee  River  near 
the  latter  place.  This  village  stood  on  or  near  the 
ground  now  occupied  by  the  village  of  Dansville.  East 
of  the  junction  of  Genesee  River  and  Canneskraugah 
creek,  extending  some  distance  up  the  river  and  down  the 
river,  was  a  sparsely-settled  Indian  village  or  settlement, 
which  appeared  to  be  a  kind  of  suburb  of  Genishau,  or 
Little  Beard's  Town* 

Squawkie  Hill  village,  lying  about  two  miles  south  of 
Little  Beard's  Town,  was  a  great  resort  for  the  Indians 


*  Da-yo'-it-ga-o,  the  name  of  this  village,  means  "  Where  the  river 
issues  from  the  hills."  It  describes  the  place  where  the  Genesee 
River  emerges  from  between  two  narrow  walls  of  rock,  and  enters  the 
broad  valley  of  the  Genesee.  This  valley,  separating  itself  from  the 
river  at  this  point,  extends  up  to  Dansville,  and  the  Caneserauga 
creek  flows  through  it.  —  [Ed. 


DEI1-HK-W  A-MIS.  95 

to  enjoy  their  sportive  games,  gymnastic  f 
festivals. 

Caoeadea  Indian  village,  or  rather  villages,  were  situ- 
ated op  tin-  i .  Etivei  "ii  the  Can< 
ginning  at  the  month  of  Wiscoy,  meaning  "Many  Fall," 

k,  twenty  miles  from  Mount  Morris,  and  extending  up 
the  river,  at  intervals,  eight  or  nine  mfles,  Dearly  t«>  the 

great  angle  in  the  river.  From  the  southern  end  of  ( 
neadea  Indian  settlement  south-westerly  about  forty-five 
miles,  on  the  Alleghany  River,  is  the  small  Indian  vfl 
called  by  Mr-.  Jemison  F-na-waum-gwa,  but  now  known 
as  Tu-ne-un-gwan.  Further  down  the  river  is  Kill  Buck's 
Town,  at  the  mouth  of  Great  Valley  creek,  and  Buck 
Tooth's  Town,  at  the  mouth  of  Little  Valley  creek. 
Below  these  is  Chc-na-shung-gan-tan  or  Te-ush-un-ush-un- 
gau-tau,  being  at  the  mouth  of  what  is  now  called  Cold 
Spring  creek,  in  the  town  of  Xapoli,  Cattaraugus  county, 
N.  V.  This  village  is  about  eighteen  miles  below  Tune- 
ungwan.  Below  these  are  several  Indian  settlements 
along  the  river,  tin1  most  considerable  of  which  is  Corn- 
planter's  settlement,  extending  Several  miles  along  the 
river,  Oornplanter  himself  being  located  near  the  (enter. 
Of  the  population  of  the  several  Indian  villages  and 
at  the  time  Mr>.  JemisOD  emigrated  t<> 
section  of  country,  we  can  make  no  estimate;  and  even 
in  latter  years,  so  wandering  are  the  habit-  Indians 


96  LIFE    OF    MARY   JEMISON. 

that  a  village  may  be  filled  to  overflowing,  apparently, 
with  residents,  one  month,  and  be  almost  depopulated  the 
next.  Their  manner  of  lodging,  cooking,  and  eating, 
greatly  facilitates  their  migratory  propensities,  as  one 
large  cabin  will  as  well  accommodate  fifty  as  five.  A 
deer-skin  for  a  bed,  a  large  kettle  for  a  boiler,  hot  ashes 
or  embers  for  an  oven,  a  bark  trough  for  a  soup-dish  and 
platter,  a  chip  for  a  plate,  a  knife,  (which  each  carries,) 
a  sharp  stick  for  a  fork,  and,  perhaps,  a  wooden  spoon  and 
tin  cup,  comprehend  a  complete  set  of  household  furni- 
ture, cooking  and  eating  utensils.  Even  at  this  day,  the 
only  time  the  number  of  individuals  who  compose  a  tribe 
is  known,  or  pretended  to  be  known,  is  when  they  are 
about  to  receive  their  annuities ;  and  it  is  then  impossible 
to  ascertain  a  "  local  habitation  or  a  name"  for  but  few 
of  the  individuals  for  whom  annuities  are  drawn  as  be- 
longing to  such  a  tribe. 

The  following  statement  of  the  numbers  and  location 
of  the  Indians  composing  the  Six  Nations,  in  1823,  is  a 
specimen  of  the  precision  adopted  in  the  transaction  of 
our  public  business  relative  to  Indian  affairs.  This  ac- 
count was  obtained  from  Captain  Horatio  Jones,  who 
was  the  United  States  agent  for  paying  the  annuities  to 
the  Six  Nations. 

The  individuals  belonging  to  the  Six  Nations,  in  the 
state  of  New  York,  are  located  on  their  reservations  from 


Dl  ii-m:-\\  \-.Mi-.  ■'? 

'Oneida    Lake   westward     t<»    Lake    Erie    and    Alleghany 

River,  and  amount  to  five  thousand.    Those  located  in 
Ohio  on  the  Sandusky  River  amount  to  all  hundred 
eighty-eight,  to  wit :  three  hundred  and  eighty  Cayn 
one    hundred    Senecas,   sixty-four  Mohawks,   sixty-four 

Oneidas,  and  eighty  Onondagaa.  The  bulk  of  the  Mo- 
hawks, together  with  some  of  each  of  the  other  five  na- 
tions, reside  on  the  Grand  River,  in  Upper  Canada. 


98  LITE   OF   MARY   JEMISON. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Indians  march  to  fight  the  British  —  Return  with  cattle  and  prison- 
ers—  Two  prisoners  burned — An  Indian  woman's  eloquence  — 
Tragedy  of  the  "  Devil's  Hole  " —  Death  of  She-nan-jee  —  Attempt 
to  take  Mary  to  Niagara  by  force  —  She  marries  Hi-ok-a-too — Her 
children  —  Loss  of  a  daughter. 

When  we  arrived  at  Genishau,  the  Indians  of  that 
tribe  were  making  active  preparations  for  joining  the 
French,  in  order  to  assist  them  in  retaking  Fort  Xe-a- 
gaw,*  (as  Fort  Erie  was  called  in  the  Seneca  language,) 
from  the  British,  who  had  taken  it  from  the  French  in  the 
month  preceding.  They  marched  off  the  next  day  after 
our  arrival,  painted  and  accoutered  in  all  the  habiliments 
of  Indian  warfare,  determined  on  death  or  victory  ;  and 
joined  the  army  in  season  to  assist  in  accomplishing  a 
plan  that  had  been  previously  concerted  for  the  destruc- 
tion of  a  part  of  the  British  army.  The  British,  feeling 
themselves  secure  in  the  possession  of  Fort  Xeagaw,  and 

*  The  Seneca  name  of  the  Niagara  River,  and  of  Lake  Ontario,  wa3 
Ne-ah'-gd.  They  derived  this  name  from  a  locality  near  the  site  of 
Youngstown,  in  the  vicinity  of  which  is  the  present  Fort  Niagara.  Our 
present  name  Niagara,  is  derived  from  this  word.  —  [Ed. 


DEH-IIK-W  a-MIn.  99 

unwilling  that  their  enemies  should  occupy  any  of  thf> 
military  posts  in  1 1  ui t  quarter,  determined  to  tain  Fori 
Bchlosser —  lying  ■  few  miles  up  the  river  from  N- 
gaw —  which  tiny  expected  i«»  effect  with  but  little  I 
a  ordingly,  ■  detachment  of  soldiers,  aufficientlj  numer- 
ous, as  was  supposed,  wee  sent  out  to  take  It,  leering  a 
strong  garrison  In  the  fort ;  and  marched  off*  well  prepared 
to  effect  their  object.  Hut  on  their  way  they  were  sur- 
rounded by  the  French  and  Indians,  who  lay  in  ambush 

t«»  receive  them,  and  were  driven  hack  with  great  loss. 
Our  Indians  were  absent  but  a  few  days,  and  returned  in 
triumph,  bringing  with  them  two  white  prisoners,  and  a 

number  of  oxen.     Those  were   the  first   neat   cattle  that 
■  <-r  brought  to  Genesee  Flats. 

The  next  day  after  their  return  to  Genishaa  was 

apart   as  a  day  of  feasting   and   frolicking,  at  the  SX]  < 

of  the  lives  of  their  two  unfortunate  prisoners  on  whom 
they  proposed  to  glut  their  revenge,  and  satisfy  their 
love  for  retaliation   upon   their  enemies.      My   sister  was 

anxious  to  attend  the  execution,  and  to  take  me  with  her 
to  witness  the   customs  of  the  warriors,  as   it  was  one  of 

the  highest  kind  of  frolics  ever  celebrated  in  their  tribe, 

and  one  that  was  not  often  attended  with  BO  mueh  pomp 
and  parade  as  it  was  expected  that  would  he.  I  felt  a 
kind  of  anxiety  to  witness  the  BCene,  having  never  at- 
tended an   execution ;  and    yet  I   felt  a  kind  of   horrid 


100  LIFE    OF    MARY   JEMISOX. 

dread  that  made  my  heart  revolt,  and  inclined  me  to  step 
back,  rather  than  support  the  idea  of  advancing.  On  the 
morning  of  the  execution,  she  made  her  intention  of  go- 
ing to  the  frolic  and  taking  me  with  her  known  to  our 
mother,  who,  in  the  most  feeling  terms,  remonstrated 
against  a  step  at  once  so  rash  and  unbecoming  the  true 
dignity  of  our  sex. 

"  How,  my  daughter,"  said  she,  addressing  my  sister, 
"  how  can  you  even  think  of  attending  the  feast,  and  see- 
ing the  unspeakable  torments  that  those  poor,  unfortunate 
prisoners  must  inevitably  suffer  from  the  hands  of  our 
warriors  ?  How  can  you  stand  and  see  them  writhing  in 
the  warrior's  fire,  in  all  the  agonies  of  a  slow  and  lingering 
death  ?  How  can  you  think  of  enduring  the  sound  of 
their  groanings,  and  prayers  to  the  Great  Spirit  for  sud- 
den deliverance  from  their  enemies,  or  from  life  1  And 
how  can  you  think  of  conducting  to  that  melancholy  spot 
your  poor  sister  Deh-he-wa-uris,  (meaning  myself,)  who 
has  so  lately  been  a  prisoner ;  who  has  lost  her  parents 
and  brothers  by  the  hands  of  the  bloody  warriors ;  and 
who  has  felt  all  the  horrors  of  the  loss  of  her  freedom,  in 
lonesome  captivity  ?  Oh  !  how  can  you  think  of  making 
her  bleed  at  the  wounds  which  are  now  but  partially 
healed  ?  The  recollection  of  her  former  troubles  would 
deprive  us  of  Deh-he-wa-mis,  and  she  would  depart  to 
the  fields  of  the  blessed,  where  fighting  has  ceased,  and 


I>l.!I-Ili:-\V.\-\!I>.  lul 

the  com  needs  no  tending  —  where  bunting  I  tin; 

itfl  delightful,  the  rammers  arc  pleasant,  and  the  vis- 
ire  mild]    Oh!  think  onoe,  my  daughter ,  how  sooe 

you  may   have  a    brave    brother  made  prisoner  in   battle, 

and  sacrificed  to  feast  the  ambition  of  the  enemies  of  bis 

kindred,  and  leave  us  t<>  mourn  for  the  loss  of  I  friend,  ■ 
son,  and  a  brother,  whOM  ROW  brought  us  veni>oii,  and 
supplied  us  with  blankets!  (  Mir  task  is  quite  easy  at 
home,  and  our  business  needs  our  attention.  With  war 
we  have  nothing  to  do:  our  husbands  and  brothers  are 
proud   to   defend   us,  and    their  hearts   beat  with   ardor  to 

I  our  proud  foes.     Oh!   stay,  then,  my  daughter: 

our  warriors  alone  perform  on  their  victims  their  cus- 
-  of  war!  " 
This   speech  <>f  our  mother  had  the  desired  effect  : 

8,  and  attended   to  our  domestic  concerns. 

The  prisoners,  however,  were  executed,  by  having  their 

off,  their  bodies  cut  in  pices  and  >huckingly 

mangled,  and  then  burnt  to  ashen,     They  were  burnt  08 

the  north   side  "f    Fallbrook.  directly  Opposite   the  town, 

which  WSJ  <»n  the  Booth  Wme  time   in  the   month  of 

1769. 

Our  Indians  v.  »  among  those  who  lay  in  ambush 

on  the  Niagara  River  to  intercept  a  party  of  the  British 

who  were  guarding  a  quantity  <>f  1  from   I  • 

to  Furt   Schlosser.     When   the   Briti>h   party  arrived  at 
7  E 


102  LIFE    OF    MARY   JEMISON. 

the  designated  point,  the  Indians  arose  from  their  ambush, 
and  drove  the  British  off  the  bank  of  the  river,  into  a 
place  called  the  Devil's  Hole,  together  with  their  horses, 
carriages,  and  loading,  and  everything  belonging  to  the 
party.  Not  a  man  escaped  being  driven  off ;  and  of  the 
whole  number,  one  only  was  fortunate  enough  to  escape 
with  life  * 

I  spent  the  winter  comfortably,  and  as  agreeably  as  I 
could  have  expected  in  the  absence  of  my  kind  husband. 
Spring  at  length  appeared,  but  Sheninjee  was  yet  away  ; 
summer  came  on,  but  my  husband  had  not  found  me. 
Fearful  forebodings  haunted  my  imagination ;  yet  I  felt 
confident  that  his  affection  for  me  was  so  great  that  if  he 
was  alive  he  would  follow  me,  and  I  should  again  see 
him.  In  the  course  of  the  summer,  however,  I  received 
intelligence  that  soon  after  he  left  me  at  Yiskahwana  he 
was  taken  sick,  and  died  at  Wiishto.  This  was  a  heavy 
and  unexpected  blow.  I  was  now  in  my  youthful  days, 
left  a  widow,  with  one  son,  and  was  entirely  dependent  on 
myself  for  his  and  my  support.  My  mother  and  her  fam- 
ily gave  me  all  the  consolation  in  their  power;  and  in  a 
few  months  my  grief  wore  off,  and  I  became  contented. 

In  a  year  or  two  after  this,  according  to  my  best  recol- 
lection of  the  time,  the  king  of  England  offered  a  bounty 

*  See  "  TTagedy  of  the  Devil's  Hole." 


i » i : 1 1- 1 1 1 :-\\  a-mis.  103 

to  those  who  would  bring  in  the  prisoneri  that  had  ! 

taken    in    tliat    war   to    BOme    military    post,    where    they 

might  be  redeemed,  and  set  at  liberty. 

John  Via  sice,  a  Dutchman,  who  had  frequently  been 
at  our  place,  and  was  well  acquainted  with  every  pifo 
at   Geniahau,  rcsohcd  to  take   me   to  Niagara,  that   I 
might  there  receive  my  liberty,  and  he  the  offered  bounty. 

I  was  notified  of  his  intention;  but  as  I  was  fully  deter- 
mined not  to  be  redeemed  at  that  time,  especially  with 
Hi  assistance,   I   carefully  watched  Jua  movements,  in 

order  to  avoid  falling  into  his  hands.  It  so  happened, 
however,  that  he  saw  me  alone  at  w<»rk  in  a  cornfield,  aud 
thinking,  probably,  that  he  could  secure  me  easily,  ran 
toward  me  in  great  haste.  I  espied  him  at  some  (list; 
and  well  knowing  the  intent  of  his  errand,  run  from  him 
with  all  the  speed  I  was  mistress  of,  and  never  once 
stopped  till  I  reached  Gardeau.  He  gave  up  the  ( ! 
and  returned;  but  I,  fearing  that  he  might  be  lying  in 
wait  for  me,  stayed  three  days  and  three  nights  in  an  old 
cabin  at  Gardeau;  and  then  went  back,  trembling  at 
every  step,  for  fear  of  being  apprehended.  I  got  home 
without  difficulty;  and  soon  after,  the  chiefs  in  council 
having  learned  the  cause  of  my  elopement,  gave  orders 
that  I  should  not  be  taken  to  any  military  post  without 
my  consent;  and  that,  as  it  was  mv  choice  to  stay,  I 
should   live   among   them  quietly   and  undisturbed.     But 


104  LIFE    OF    MARY   JEMISON. 

notwithstanding  the  will  of  the  chiefs,  it  was  but  a  few 
clays  before,  the  old  king  of  our  tribe  told  one  of  my  In- 
dian brothers  that  I  should  be  redeemed,  and  he  would 
take  me  to  Niagara  himself.  In  reply  to  the  old  king  * 
my  brother  said  that  I  should  not  be  given  up  ;  but  that, 
as  it  was  my  wish,  I  should  stay  with  the  tribe  as  long  as 
I  was  pleased  to.  Upon  this  a  serious  quarrel  ensued  be- 
tween them,  in  which  my  brother  frankly  told  him  that 
sooner  than  I  should  be  taken  by  force,  he  would  kill  me 
with  his  own  hand^.  Highly  enraged  at  the  old  king,  my 
brother  came  to  my  sister's  house,  where  I  resided,  and 
informed  her  of  all  that  had  passed  respecting  me ;  and 

*  There  is  no  propriety  whatever  in  calling  any  of  the  Seneca  chiefs 
by  this  title.  The  nation  was  originally  governed  by  eight  sachems, 
all  of  whom  were  equal  in  rank  and  authority ;  and  the  title  was 
hereditary  in  the  tribe,  although  not  strictly  in  the  family  of  the  indi- 
vidual. The  son  could  never  succeed  his  father,  because  the  father 
and  son  were  always  of  different  tribes.  There  were  eight  tribes  in  the 
Seneca  nation  —  the  Wolf,  Bear,  Beaver,  Deer,  Turtle,  Snipe,  Heron, 
and  Hawk. 

No  man  was  allowed  to  marry  into  his  own  tribe ;  and  the  children 
were  of  the  tribe  of  the  mother.  The  title  being  hereditary  in  the 
tribe,  the  son  was  thereby  excluded  from  the  succession. 

At  a  later  day,  a  class  of  chiefs  were  created  subordinate  to  the 
sachems ;  but  in  course  of  time  they  came  to  have  an  equal  voice  with 
the  sachems  in  the  administration  of  the  affairs  of  the  nation.  The 
office  was  elective,  and  for  life,  and  was  not  hereditary.  To  this  day 
they  have  the  eight  sachems,  still  holding  by  the  ancient  tenure,  and 
about  seventy  chiefs.  —  [Ed. 


m:ii-iii:-\y.\-mis.  10.-, 

that,  if  the  old  king  should  attempt  to  take  d  i 
firmly  believed  he  would,  he  would  Immediately  take  my 
ami  hazard  the  consequences,     lie  returned  to  the 
old  king.    As  booh  as  1  came  In,  my  sister  told  me  what 

she  had  just  heard,  and  what  she  ezpeotod  without  douht 
would  befall  me.  Full  of  pity,  and  anxious  for  my  pre- 
servation, she  then  directed  me  to  take  my  child,  and  go 

into  some  high  Weedfl  at  no  great  distance  from  the  he 
and  there   hide  myself,  and   lay  still  till  all  was  silent  in 
the   house;   for    my    brother,    she    said,  would    return    at 
evening,  and  let  her  know  the  final  conclusion  of  the  mat- 
ter, of  which  she  promised  to  inform  me  in  the  following 

manner:  If  I  was  to  he  killed,  she  said  she  would  bake 
a  small  cake,  and  lay  it  at  the  door,  on  the  outside,  in  a 
place  that  she  then  pointed  out  to  me.  When  all  was 
silent  in  tin'  house,  I  was  to  creep  softly  to  the  door, 
and  if  t:  could  not  be  found  in  the  place  specified, 

I  was  to  go  in;  but  if  the  cake  was  there,  I  was  to  take 
my  child,  and  go  as  fast  as  I  possibly  could,  to  a  large 
spring  on  the  south  side  of  Samp's  creek,  (a  place  that 
I  had  often  seen,)  and  there  wait  till  I  should,  by  some 
means,  hear  from  her. 

Alarmed  for  my  own  safety,  I  instantly  followed  her 
advice,  and  went  into  the  weeds;  where  I  lay  in 
of  the  greatest  anxiety  till  all  was  silent  in  the  house, 
when  I  crept  to  the  door,  and  there  found,  to  my  great 


106  LIFE   OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

distress,  the  little  cake.  I  knew  my  fate  was  fixed,  un- 
less I  could  keep  secreted  till  the  storm  was  over ;  and  ac- 
cordingly crept  back  to  the  weeds  where  my  little  Thomas 
lay,  took  him  on  my  back,  and  laid  my  course  for  the 
spring  as  fast  as  my  legs  would  carry  me.  Thomas  was 
nearly  three  years  old,  and  very  large  and  heavy.  I  got 
to  the  spring  early  in  the  morning,  almost  overcome  with 
fatigue;  and  at  the  same  time  fearing  that  I  might  be 
pursued  and  taken,  I  felt  my  life  an  almost  insupportable 
burden.  I  sat  down  with  my  child  at  the  spring,  and  he 
and  I  made  a  breakfast  of  the  little  cake,  and  water  of 
the  spring,  which  I  dipped  and  supped  with  the  only  im- 
plement which  I  possessed  —  my  hand.  On  the  morning 
after  I  fled,  as  was  expected,  the  old  king  came  to  our 
house  in  search  of  me,  to  take  me  off;  but  as  I  was  not 
to  be  found,  he  gave  me  up,  and  went  to  Niagara  with 
the  prisoners  he  had  already  got  into  his  possession. 

As  soon  as  the  old  king  was  fairly  out  of  the  way,  my 
sister  told  my  brother  where  he  could  find  me.  He  im- 
mediately set  out  for  the  spring,  and  found  me  about 
noon.  The  first  sight  of  him  made  me  tremble  with  the 
fear  of  death;  but  when  he  came  near — so  near  that  I 
could  discover  his  countenance  —  tears  of  joy  flowed 
down  my  cheeks,  and  I  felt  a  kind  of  instant  relief,  such 
as  no  one  can  possibly  experience,  unless  when  under  the 
absolute  sentence  of  death  he  receives  an  unlimited 
pardon. 


j)KH-m:-w  a-.mis.  Iu7 

We  were  both  rejoiced  at  the  failure  of  the  old  kh 
projeel ;   ami  iftef  staying  at   the  spring   through   the 
night,  set  out  together  for  borne  early  in  the  morning. 
When  we  got  to  i  cornfield  near  the  town,  my  brother 

■aerated  me  till  be  could  <_ro  ami  ascertain  how  nrj  i 
stood;  and  finding  thai  the  old  king  was  absent)  and  that 
all  was  peaceable,  he  returned  to  me,  and  I  went  home 

joyfully. 

Not  long  after  this,  my  mother  went  to  Johnstown,  on 
the  Mohawk  River,  with  live  prisoners,  who  were  redeemed 
by  Sir  William  Johnson,  and  set  at  liberty. 

When  my  son  Thomas  was  three  or  four  years  old,  I 
was  married  to  an  Indian,  whose  name  was  lliokatoo, 
commonly  called  Gardeau,  by  whom  I  had  four  daughters 
and  two  sons.  I  named  my  children,  principally,  after 
my  relatives  from  whom  I  was  parted,  by  calling  my  girls 
Jane,  Nancy,  Betsey,  and  Polly,  and  the  boys  John  and 
Jesse.  Jane  died  about  twenty-nine  years  ago,  in  the 
month  of  August,  a  little  before  the  great  council  at  Big 
Tree,  aged  about  fifteen  years.  My  other  daughter!  are 
yet  Hying,  and  have  families. 


108  LIFE    OF    MARY   JEMISOX. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Peace  among  the  Indians  —  Their  happy  state  —  Troubles  between 
England  and  the  Colonies  —  Treaty  with  the  Colonies  —  Iroquois 
agree  to  remain  neutral — Treaty  with  the  British  —  Join  them 
against  the  Americans  —  Bounty  for  scalps  —  Four  female  prison- 
ers—  Battle  of  Fort  Stanwix  —  Indian  loss  —  Butler  and  Brandt. 

After  the  conclusion  of  the  French  war,  our  tribe  had 
nothing  to  do  till  the  commencement  of  the  American 
Revolution.  For  twelve  or  fifteen  years,  the  use  of  the 
implements  of  war  was  not  known,  nor  the  warwhoop 
heard,  save  on  days  of  festivity,  when  the  achievements 
f  former  times  were  commemorated  in  a  kind  of  mimic 
fare,  in  which  the  chiefs  and  warriors  displayed  their 
and  illustrated  their  former  adroitness,  by  laying 
the  ambuscade,  surprising  their  enemies,  and  performing 
many  accurate  maneuvers  with  the  tomahawk  and  scalp- 
ing knife ;  thereby  preserving,  and  handing  to  their 
children,  the  theory  of  Indian  warfare.  During  that 
period  they  also  pertinaciously  observed  the  religious 
rites  of  their  progenitors,  by  attending  with  the  most 
scrupulous  exactness,  and  a  great  degree  of  enthusiasm, 
to  the  sacrifices,  at  particular  times,  to  appease  the  anger 


*i* 


•*&&$&■  ■jA.tL. 


Lf^. 


mm 


IN    INDIAN    <  OSTl  Ml.    Al    II!L     \ 


x » i : 1 1- 1 1 1 :-\s  k-M]&  1 1  1 

of  tlu-  Evil  Deity;  <»r  in  excite  the  ooinmiscration  of  t lie 
Great  Good  spirit,  whom  they  adored  with  re 
the  author,  governor,  supporter,  and  cHspoai 
good  thing  of  which  they  participated. 

They  also  practiced  in  various  athletic  games,  raoh 
running,  wrestling,  Leaping, and  playing  hall,  with  ■  view 
that  their  bodies  might  be  more  supple  —  or,  rather,  that 
the)  might  n«»t  become  enervated,  and  that   they  might 
1m-  enabled  to  make  a  proper  selection  of  chiefs  for  the 

Councils  of  the  nation,  and   leaders  for  war. 

While  the  Indians  were  thus  engaged  in  their  round  of 
traditionary  performances,  with  the  addition  of  bunt 
their  women  attended  to  agriculture,  their  families,  and  a 
few  domestic  concerns  of  email  consequence  and  attended 
with  but  little  labor. 

N«>  people  can  live  more  happy  than  the  Indians  did  in 
times  of  peace,  before  the  introduction  of  Bpiritous  liquors 
among  them.  Their  lives  were  a  continual  round 
pleasures.  Their  wants  were  few,  and  easily  satisfied, 
and  their  cares  were  only  for  to-day  —  the  bounds 
their  calculation  for  future  comfort  not  extending  to  the 
incalculable  uncertainties  of  fco-mOITOW.  If  peace  ever 
dwelt  with  men,  it  was  in  former  times,  in  the  recess  from 
.  mong  what  are  now  termed  barbarians.     The  n 

character  of  the  Indians  was  (if  I  may  be  allowed  I  he 

expression;  uncontaminated.     Their  fidelity  was  per: 

E* 


112  LIFE    OF    MARY   JEMISOX. 

and  became  proverbial.  They  were  strictly  honest ;  they 
despised  deception  and  falsehood ;  and  chastity  was  held 
in  high  veneration,  and  a  violation  of  it  was  considered 
sacrilege.  They  were  temperate  in  their  desires,  moderate 
in  their  passions,  and  candid  and  honorable  in  the  ex- 
pression of  their  sentiments,  on  every  subject  of  importance. 

Thus,  at  peace  among  themselves  and  with  the  neigh- 
boring whites — though  there  were  none  at  that  time  very 
near  —  our  Indians  lived  quietly  and  peaceably  at  home, 
till  a  little  before  the  breaking  out  of  the  Eevolutionary 
War,  when  they  were  sent  for,  together  with  the  chiefs, 
and  members  of  the  Six  Nations  generally,  by  the  people 
of  the  states,  to  go  to  the  German  Flats,  and  there  hold  a 
general  council,  in  order  that  the  people  of  the  states 
might  ascertain,  in  good  season,  who  they  should  esteem 
and  treat  as  enemies,  and  who  as  friends,  in  the  great  war 
which  was  then  upon  the  point  of  breaking  out  between 
them  and  the  king  of  England. 

Our  Indians  obeyed  the  call,  and  the  council  was 
holden,  at  which  the  pipe  of  peace  was  smoked,  and  a 
treaty  made,  in  which  the  Six  Nations  solemnly  agreed 
that,  if  a  war  should  eventually  break  out,  they  would  not 
take  up  arms  on  either  side  ;  but  that  they  would  observe 
a  strict  neutrality.  With  that  the  people  of  the  states 
were  satisfied,  as  they  had  not  asked  their  assistance,  nor 
did  they  wish  it.     The  Indians  returned  to  their  homes 


1)i:ii-iii:-\v.\-mis.  1  i;{ 

well  pleased  that  they  oonld  live  on  neutral  ground,  but- 

rounded  by  the  din  of  war.  without    being  .  d   \n  it. 

About    a  year  ptBSed   off,  and  we,  as  usual,  were  enjoy  - 

ourselves  in  the  employments  of  pea*  sable  times,  when 
a  messenger  arrived  from  the  British  commissioners, 
requesting  all  the  Indians  (if  our  tribe  to  attend  a  general 
council  which  was  soon  to  be  held  at  Oswego.  The 
council  convened,  and  being  opened,  the  British  com- 
missioners informed  the  chiefs  that  the  object  of  calling  a 
council  of  the  Six  Nations  was  to  engage  their  assistance 
in  subduing  the  rebels  —  the  people  of  the  stales,  who 
had  risen  up  against  the  good  king,  their  master,  and  were 
about  to  rob  him  of  a  great  part  of  his  possessions  and 
wealth  —  and  added  that  they  would  amply  reward  them 
for  their  services. 

The  chiefs  then  arose,  and  informed  the  commissioners 
of  the  nature  and  extent  of  the  treaty  which  they  had 
entered  into  with  the  people  of  the  states,  the  year  before  ; 
and  that  they  should  not  violate  it  by  taking  up  the 
hatchet  against    them. 

The  commissioners  continued  their  entreaties  without 
success,  till  they  addressed  their  avarice,  by  telling  our 
people  that  the  people  Of  the  states  were  few  in  number, 
and  easily  BUbdned;  and  that,  on  the  account  of  their 
disobedience  to  the  king,  they  justly  merited  all  the 
punishment  that  it  was  possible  for  white  men  and  Indians 


114  LIFE   OF    MART  JEMISON. 

to  inflict  upon  them ;  and  added,  that  the  king  was  rich 
and  powerful,  both  in  money  and  subjects ;  that  his  rum 
was  as  plenty  as  the  water  in  Lake  Ontario  ;  that  his  men 
were  as  numerous  as  the  sands  upon  the  lake  shore ;  and 
that  the  Indians,  if  they  would  assist  in  the  war,  and  per- 
severe in  their  friendship  to  the  king  till  it  was  closed, 
should  never  want  for  money  or  goods.  Upon  this  the 
chiefs  concluded  a  treaty  with  the  British  commissioners, 
in  which  they  agreed  to  take  up  arms  against  the  rebels, 
and  continue  in  the  service  of  his  majesty  till  they  were 
subdued,  in  consideration  of  certain  conditions  which  were 
stipulated  in  the  treaty  to  be  performed  by  the  British 
government  and  its  agents.* 

As  soon  as  the  treaty  was  finished,  the  commissioners 
made  a  present  to  each  Indian  of  a  suit  of  clothes,  a  brass 
kettle,  a  gun,  and  tomahawk,  a  scalping-knife,  a  quantity 
of  powder  and  lead,  a  piece  of  gold,  and  promised  a 
bounty  on  every  scalp  that  should  be  brought  in.  Thus 
richly  clad  and  equipped,  they  returned  home,  after  an 
absence  of  about  two  weeks,  full  of  the  fire  of  war,  and 
anxious  to  encounter  their  enemies.     Many  of  the  kettles 

*  Unanimity  was  a  fundamental  law  of  the  Iroquois  civil  polity. 
When  the  question  of  joining  the  English  came  before  the  council  of 
the  League,  the  Oneidas  refused  to  concur,  and  thus  defeated  the 
measure  ;  but  it  was  agreed  that  each  nation  might  engage  in  it  upon 
its  own  responsibility.  It  was  impossible  to  keep  the  Mohawks  from 
the  English  alliance.  —  [Ed. 


i»i:ii-iii:-\v  a-.mis.  IK, 

Which  the  Indians   received   at    thai    time  arc  DOH  in  DM 

on  tin*  Genesee  Flats. 
Hired  to  commit  depredations  upon  the  whites,  who 

had  given  them  do  offense,  they  waited  impatiently  to 
commence  their  labor,  till  sometime  in  the  spring  of  I 
when  a  convenient  opportunity  offered  fur  them  t<>  make 
an  attack.  At  that  time  a  parly  of  our  Indians  wen-  at 
Cau-te-ga,  who  shot  a  man  that  was  looking  after  his 
horse,  for  the  sole  purpose,  as  I  was  informed  by  my 
Indian  brother,  who  was  present,  of  commencing  hos- 
tilities. In  May  following,  OUT  Indians  were  in  the  first 
battle  with  the  Americans;  but  at  what  place  1  am  un- 
able to  determine.  While  they  were  absent  at  that  time, 
my  daughter  Nancy  was  bom. 

The  same  year,  at  Cherry  Valley,  our  Indians  took  a 
woman  and  her  three  daughters  prisoners,  and  brought 
them  on,  leaving  one  at  Canandaigua,  one  at  Honeoye, 
one  at  Cattaraugus,  and  one  (the  woman)  at  Little  Beard's 
Town,  where  I  resided.  The  woman  told  me  that  Bhe 
and  her  daughters  might  have  escaped,  but  that  they 
expected  the  British  army  only,  and  therefore  made  no 
effort  Her  husband  and  sons  got  away.  After  some 
time,  they  were  all  taken  to  Fori  Niagara,  where  they 
■were  redeemed  by  Col.  Butler,  well  clothed,  and  sent 
home  —  except  one  daughter,  who  was  married  to  a 
British   officer   at   the   fort,   by   the  name  of  Johnson. 


116  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

Johnson  was  of  the  party  who  captured  her;  at  which 
time  he  very  unceremoniously  took  from  her  finger  a  gold 
ring,  and  appropriated  it  to  his  own  use.  When  he  saw 
her  again  at  Niagara,  he  recognized  her,  restored  the  ring 
so  impolitely  borrowed,  courted  and  married  her ;  and 
although  the  marriage  ceremony  was  celebrated  in  a 
wilderness,  far  from  the  rendezvous  of  civilized  society, 
and  destitute  of  the  facilities  of  obtaining  the  elegances, 
conveniences,  or  even  the  necessaries  of  life,  they  were 
singularly  provided  with  a  wedding-ring. 

In  the  same  expedition,  Joseph  Smith  was  taken  pris- 
oner at  or  near  Cherry  Valley,  brought  to  Genesee,  and 
detained  till  after  the  Revolutionary  War.  He  was  then 
liberated ;  and  the  Indians  made  him  a  present,  in  com- 
pany with  Horatio  Jones,  of  six  thousand  acres  of  land, 
lying  in  the  present  town  of  Leicester,  in  the  county  of 
Livingston. 

Previous  to  the  battle  of  Fort  Stanwix,  the  British 
sent  for  the  Indians  to  come  and  see  them  whip  the  rebels ; 
and  at  the  same  time  stated  that  they  did  not  wish  to 
have  them  fight,  but  wanted  to  have  them  just  sit  down, 
smoke  their  pipes,  and  look  on.  Our  Indians  went,  to  a 
man ;  but,  contrary  to  their  expectation,  instead  of  smok- 
ing and  looking  on,  they  were  obliged  to  fight  for  their 
lives  ;  and  in  the  end  of  the  battle  were  completely 
beaten,  with  a  great  loss  in  killed  and  wounded.    Our 


I »i :i  1-11 1:-\\  a-.mis.  117 

Indians  alone   had  thirty-six   killed,  and   a  gieoi    numher 

wounded.    ( >ur  town  exhibited  i  scene  of  real  Borrow 

distress,  when  our  warriors  returned,  recounted  their  mis- 
fortunes, and  stated   the    real    Ion  they  had   sustained   in 

the  engagement    The  mourning  waa  md  was 

expressed    l»y  the   moat  doleful  yells,  shrieks,   and    howl- 

.  and  by  Inimitable  gesticulations. 

1'iring  the  Revolution,  my  house  was  the  home  of 
Colonels  Butler  and  Brandt,  whenever  they  chanced  to 
come  into  our  neighborhood,  afl  they  paaaed  to  and  from 
Fort  Niagara,  which  was  the  seat  of  their  military  opera- 
tions. Many  and  many  a  night  1  have  pounded  samp  for 
them  from  sunset  till  sunrise,  and  furnished  them  witli 
the  necoeoery  provisions,  and  clean  clothing,  for  their 
journey. 


118  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMlSON. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Approach  of  General  Sullivan's  army  —  A  skirmish  —  Two  Oneida 
Indians  taken  —  One  sacrificed  —  Lieutenants  Boyd  and  Parker 
captured  —  Boyd's  barbarous  execution  —  Parker's  death  —  Senecas 
retreat  to  the  woods  —  Sullivan's  army  lays  waste  the  country  — 
Army  retires  —  Senecas  return,  but  to  disperse  —  Mary  goes  to 
Gardeau  Flats — Expedition  to  the  Mohawk  — Cornplanter  and  John 
O'Buil  —  Ebenezer  Allen. 

For  four  or  five  years  we  sustained  no  loss  in  the  war, 
except  in  the  few  who  had  been  killed  in  distant  battles ; 
and  our  tribe,  because  of  the  remoteness  of  its  situation 
from  the  enemy,  felt  secure  from  an  attack.  At  length, 
in  the  fall  of  1779,  intelligence  was  received  that  a  large 
and  powerful  army  of  the  rebels,  under  the  command  of 
General  Sullivan,  was  making  rapid  progress  toward  our 
settlement;  burning  and  destroying  the  huts  and  corn- 
fields; killing  the  cattle,  hogs,  and  horses;  and  cutting 
down  the  fruit-trees  belonging  to  the  Indians  throughout 
the  country* 

Our  Indians  immediately  became  alarmed,  and  suffered 
every  thing  but  death,  from  fear  that  they  should  be 
taken  by  surprise,  and  totally  destroyed  at  a  single  blow. 

*  See  Appendix  —  General  Sullivan's  Expedition. 


DKII-UJ  :  i  s.  i  j  j  i 

B       In  order  tO  present  BO  great  I  rophe,  the\ 

Ollt   I  few   spies.  WhO   Were    to    keep   1  llcinsrlvcS    af     |  slmrl 

distance  in  front  of  the  Invading  army,  in  oxta  fco  watch 
operations,  and  give  Information  of  its  advances  and 

Sullivan  arrived  at  Canandai-ua  Lake,  and  liad  finished 
his    work   Of   destruction   there;    and    it    was 
that  he  was  about  to  march  to  our  Hats,  when  our  Indians 
Ived  to  give  him  battle  on  the  way,  and   prevent,  if 
.Me,  the  distress   to   which   they   knew  we  should  bo 
Subjected,  if   lie   should    succeed    in   reaching   our   town. 
ingly,  they  sent  all  their  women  and  children  into 
the  woods  a  little  west  of  Little  Board's  Town,  in  order 
that  we  might  make  a  good  retreat,  if  it  should  be  neces- 
sary; and  then,  well  armed,  set  out  to  face  the  conquering 
enemy.     The  place  which  they  fixed  upon  for  their  battle- 
ground, lay  between   Honeove  creek    and  the  head  of 
Gonesus  Lake.    At  length  a  Bcouting-pari y  from  Sullivan's 
army  arrived  at  the  spot  selected,  when  the  Indiai 
from  their  ambush  with  all  the  fiei  and  terror  that 

it  WIS  possible  for  them  to  ezei  td  directly  put  the 

party  upon  a  retreat         o  Oneida  Indians  were  all  the 

prisoners  thai  were  taken  in  that  skirmish.     One  of  them 

a  pilot  of  Gen.  Sullivan's,  and  had  been  very  active 

in  the  war,  rendering  to  the  people  of  the  statj  tial 

services.     At   the  commencement  of  the   Revolution,  he 
8 


120  LIFE    OF    MARY    JEMISON. 

had  a  brother  older  than  himself,  who  resolved  to  join  the 
British  service,  and  endeavored,  by  all  the  art  that  he 
was  capable  of  using,  to  persuade  his  brother  to  accom- 
pany  him;    but  his   arguments   proved   abortive.     One 
went  to  the  British,  and  the  other  to  the  American  army. 
At  this  critical  juncture  they  met,  one  in  the  capacity  of 
a  conqueror,  the  other  in  that  of  a  prisoner ;  and  as  an 
Indian  seldom  forgets  a  countenance  that   he  has  seen, 
they  recognized  each  other  at  sight.     Envy  and  revenge 
glared  in  the  features  of  the  conquering  savage,  as  he 
advanced  to  his  brother  (the  prisoner,)  in  all  the  haughti- 
ness of  Indian  pride  hightened  by  a  sense  of  power,  and 
addressed  him  in  the  following  manner : 

"Brother,  you  have  merited  death!  The  hatchet  or 
the  war-club  shall  finish  your  career !  When  I  begged 
of  you  to  follow  me  in  the  fortunes  of  war,  you  was  deaf 
to  my  cries  —  you  spurned  my  entreaties ! 

"  Brother !  you  have  merited  death ;  and  shall  have 
your  desserts !  When  the  rebels  raised  their  hatchets  to 
fight  their  good  master,  you  sharpened  your  knife,  you 
brightened  your  rifle,  and  led  on  our  foes  to  the  fields  of 
our  fathers!  You  have  merited  death,  and  shall  die  by 
our  hands !  When  those  rebels  had  driven  us  from  the 
fields  of  our  fathers  to  seek  out  new  homes,  it  was  you 
who  could  dare  to  step  forth  as  their  pilot,  and  conduct 
them  even  to  the  doors  of  our  wigwams,  to  butcher  our 


DEii-m>\\  \-mi-.  121 

children,    and    to    put    01  to   death  I      No    crime    can    bi 

greater!     Bat,  though  you  have  merited  death  and  shall 

die    on    thifl   BDOt,  my  hands    shall    imt    D6  stained    in    the 

blood  of  i  brother!      Wh*  wSk  rtrUu 

little  Beard,  who  was  standing  l>y,  u  boob  at  the 
ended,  struck  the  prisoner  on  the  head  with 
his  tomahawk,  and  dispatched  him  at  om 

Little  Beard  then  Informed  the  other  Indian  prisoner 

that,  as  they  WON   at  war  with   tin*  whites   only,  and  not 
With  the    Indians,  they  would   spare   his  life;   and,  af 

while,  give  him  his  liberty  In  an  honorable  manner.  The 
Oneida  warrior,  however,  was  jealous  of  Little  Beard's 
fidelity;  and  BUSpeoting  thai  he  should  soon  fall  by  his 
hands,  watched  for  a  favorable  opportunity  to  make  his 
pe;  which  he  soon  effected.  Two  Indians  were  lead- 
ing him,  one  on  each  side,  when  he  made  a  violent  effort, 
threw  them  upon  the  ground,  and  ran  for  his  life  toward 
Where  the  main  body  of  the  American  army  was  en- 
camped.    The  Indians  pursued  him  without  success;   but 

in  their  absence  they  fell  In  with  s  small  detachment  of 
Sullivan's  men.  with  whom  they  had  a  shorl  hut  severe 

skirmish,   in  which  they  killed   a  number  of  the    enemy, 
took  Captain  (or  Lieutenant)  Thomas  Boyd  and  one  pri- 

vate  prisoners,  and  brought  them  to  Little  Beard's  Town, 

where    they  were   soon    after   put    to   death    in   the    D 

shocking   and   cruel   manner.      Little  Beard,  in   il 
G 


122  LIFE    OF    MAST   JEMISON. 

all  other  scenes  of  cruelty  that  happened  at  his  town,  was 
master  of  ceremonies,  and  principal  actor.  Poor  Boyd 
was  stripped  of  his  clothing,  and  then  tied  to  a  sapling; 
where  the  Indians  menaced  his  life,  by  throwing  their 
tomahawks  at  the  tree  directly  over  his  head,  brandishing 
their  scalping-knives  around  him  in  the  most  frightful 
manner,  and  accompanying  their  ceremonies  with  terriffic 
shouts  of  joy.  Having  punished  him  sufficiently  in  this 
way,  they  made  a  small  opening  in  his  abdomen,  took  out 
an  intestine,  which  they  tied  to  the  sapling,  and  then  un- 
bound him  from  the  tree,  and  drove  him  round  it,  till  he 
had  drawn  out  the  whole  of  his  intestines.  He  was  then 
beheaded,  his  head  was  stuck  upon  a  pole,  and  his  body 
left  on  the  ground  unburied.  Thus  ended  the  life  of  poor 
Thomas  Boyd,  who,  it  was  said,  had  every  appearance  of 
being  an  active  and  enterprising  officer,  of  the  first  tal- 
ents.* The  other  was,  if  I  remember  distinctly,  only 
beheaded,  and  left  near  Boyd. 

This  tragedy  being  finished,  our  Indians  again  held  a 
short  council  on  the  expediency  of  giving  Sullivan  battle, 
if  he  should  continue  to  advance ;  and  finally  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  they  were  not  strong  enough  to  drive 
him,  nor  to  prevent  his  taking  possession  of  their  fields ; 
but  that,  if  it  was  possible,  they  would  escape  with  their 

*  See  Appendix — "Removal  of  the  remains  of  Lieutenant  Boyd." 


;i-m:-\v  i-mg,  L93 

own  liTH  their  families,  and   leave  their  l>o8§et- 

eions  to  be  overran  by  the  Invading  army. 

The  women  and  children  were  then  >*u\  on  still  further 

.ird  Buffalo,  to  a  la:  k,  which  was  called   by  the 

Indians    ('atawha,   [Bit  k,  which   empties   into   the 

Tonawanda  creek  at  Varysbnrg,  Wyoming  com 

COmpanied   by  a  ]»art  of  the  Indian*,  while  the  remainder 

ted   themselves    in  the  WOOdfl   hack  of    Little  Beard's 

D,  tit  watch  the  movements  of  the  army. 

At  that  time  I  had  three  children  who  went   with  me 

on   foot,  one  who    rode  on  horsehack,  and  one  whom  I 

carried  on  my  back. 

Our  corn  was  good  that  year,  a  part  of  which  we  had 

.ered  and  secured  for  winter. 
In  one  or  two  days  after  the  skirmish  at  Oononifl  Lake, 
Sullivan  and  his  army  arrived  at  GteMSee  Kiver,  where 
they  destroyed  every  article  of  the  food  kind  that  they 
could  lay  their  hands  on.  A  pari  of  our  com  they  burnt, 
and  threw  the  remainder  into  the  river.  They  burnt  our 
houses,  killed  what  few  cattle  and   horses  they  could  find, 

iestn  >ur  fruit-trees,  and  left  nothing  hut  the  I 

soil   and   Umber.      BoJ  the   Indians   had  cloned,  and  Were 
not  to  he  found. 

Having  cr  id    recroaood   the  river,  and   finished 

the  work  of  destruction,  the  army  marched  offto  the  I 
Our  Indians   saw  them  move  off,  but.  ting  it  wai 


124  LIFE   OF  MARY  JEMISOX. 

Sullivan's  intention  to  watch  our  return,  and  then  to  take 
us  by  surprise,  resolved  that  the  main  body  of  our  tribe 
should  hunt  where  we  then  were,  till  Sullivan  had  gone 
so  far  that  there  would  be  no  danger  of  his  returning  to 
molest  us. 

This  being  agreed  to,  we  hunted  continually  till  the 
Indians  concluded  that  there  could  be  no  risk  in  our  once 
more  taking  possession  of  our  lands.  Accordingly,  we  all 
returned;  but  what  were  our  feelings  when  we  found 
that  there  was  not  a  mouthful  of  any  kind  of  sustenance 
left  —  not  even  enough  to  keep  a  child  one  day  from  per- 
ishing with  hunger. 

The  weather  by  this  time  had  become  cold  and  stor-  • ;  a 
and  as  we  were  destitute  of  houses,  and  food  too,  I  imme- 
diately resolved  to  take  my  children,  and  look  out  for 
myself,  without  delay.  With  this  intention,  I  took  two 
of  my  little  ones  on  my  back,  bade  the  other  three  follow, 
and  traveled  up  the  river  to  Gardeau  Flats,  where  I 
arrived  that  night. 

At  that  time,  two  negroes,  who  had  run  away  from 
'their  masters  some  time  before,  were  the  only  inhabitants 
of  those  flats.  They  lived  in  a  small  cabin,  and  had 
planted  and  raised  a  large  field  of  corn,  which  they  had 
not  yet  harvested.  As  they  were  in  want  of  help  to 
secure  their  crop,  I  hired  to  them  to  husk  corn  till  the 
whole  was  harvested. 


DEH-HB-WA-MI8.  1U0 

I  have  laughed  a  thousand  times  to  myself  when  I 
have  thought  of  the  good  old  negro  who  hind  me,  who, 

fearing  that  I  should  get  taken  or  Injured  by  the  Indians, 
d  by  me  constantly  when    I   was  busking,  with  a 

loaded  gun  in  his  band,  in  order  to  keep  <»tr  the  enemy; 
and  thereby  Lost  ss  much  labor  of  his  owi  received 

from  me,  by  paying  good  wages.    I,  however,  was  not 
displeased  with  hie  attention;   for  1  knew  that  1  should 

need  all  the  corn  that  I  could  earn,  even  if  1  should  husk 
the  whole.    1  husked  enough  for  them,  to  gain  for  myself, 

at  every  tenth  string,  one  hundred  Btringa  of  ears,  which 

equal  to  twenty-five  bushel*  of  shelled  corn.  Thi3 
Bonable  supply  made  my  family  comfortable  for  samp 
and  cakes  through  the  succeeding  winter,  which  was  the 
most  severe  thai  I  have  witnessed  since  my  remem- 
brance. The  snow  fell  about  five  feet  deep,  and  remained 
BO  for  a  long  time  ;  and  the  weather  was  extremely  cold, 
M  much  ><>,  indeed,  that  almost  all  the  game  upon 
which  the  Indians  depended  for  subsistence  perished,  and 
reduced  them  almost  to  a  state  of  starvation  through 
that  and  three  or  four  succeeding  years.  When  the 
snow  melted  in  the  spring,  deer  were  found  dead  upon  the 
ground  in  vast  numbers;  and  other  animals  of  every  de- 
scription perished  from  the  cold  also,  and  were  found 
dead  in  multitudes.     Many  of  our  people  barely  escaped 


126  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISOX. 

with  their  lives,  and  some  actually  died  of  hunger  and 
freezing. 

Having  been  completely  routed  at  Little  Beard's  Town, 
deprived  of  a  house,  and  without  the  means  of  building 
one  in  season,  after  I  had  finished  my  husking,  and  having 
found  from  the  short  acquaintance  which  I  had  had  with 
the  negroes  that  they  were  kind  and  friendly,  I  concluded, 
at  their  request,  to  take  up  my  residence  with  them  for  a 
while  in  their  cabin,  till  I  should  be  able  to  provide  a  hut 
for  myself.  I  lived  more  comfortably  than  I  expected  to 
through  the  winter,  and  the  next  season  made  a  shelter 
for  myself. 

The  negroes  continued  on  these  flats  two  or  three  years 
after  this,  and  left  them  for  a  place  that  they  expected 
would  suit  them  much  better.  But  as  that  land  became 
my  own  in  a  few  years,  by  virtue  of  a  deed  from  the 
chiefs  of  the  Six  Xations,  I  have  lived  there  from  that  to 
the  present  time. 

The  next  summer  after  Sullivan's  campaign,  our  In- 
dians, highly  incensed  at  the  whites  for  the  treatment  they 
had  received,  and  the  sufferings  which  they  had  conse- 
quently endured,  determined  to  obtain  some  redress,  by 
destroying  their  frontier  settlements.  Cornplanter,  other- 
wise called  John  O'Bail,  led  the  Indians  ■  and  an  officer 
by  the  name  of  Johnston  commanded  the  British  in  the 


ni:u-ni:-WA-Mi<.  127 

expedition.    The  force  tM  large,  ai  gjy  bent 

OpOD  exemplary  retaliation  and  ample  revenge  that  appa- 
rently nothing  oonld  avert  its  march  or  prevent  its  depre- 
dations.   After  leaving  <■■  they  marehed  directly 

t<»  some    of  the   head-waters   of  the     Susquehanna   River 

and  Schoharie  creek ;    went   down  that   creek   to  the 

Mohawk  River:  thence  up  that  river  to  Pari  Stanwix  ; 
and  from  thence  came  home.  In  their  route,  they  burnt 
a  number  of  places,  destroyed  all  the  cattle  and  other 
property  that  fell  in.their  way,  killed  a  numher  of  white 
people,  and  brought  home  a  few  prisoners. 

In  that  expedition,  when  they  came  to  Fori  Plain,  on 
the  Mohawk  River,  Cornplanter  and  a  party  of  his  In- 
dians took  old  John  O'Bail,  a  white  man,  and  made  him 
a  prisoner.  Old  John  O'Bail,  in  his  younger  days,  had 
frequently  passed  through  the  Indian  settlements  that  lay 
between  the  Hudson  and  Fort  Niagara  :  and  in  some  of 
xcursions  had  become  enamored  of  a  squaw,  by  whom 
he  had  a  son,  that  was  called  Cornplanter. 

<  lornplanter*  was  a  chief  of  considerable  eminence  ;  and 
having  been  informed  of  his  parentage  and  of  the  place 

of  his  father's  residence,  took  the  old  man,  at  this  time, 
in  order  that  he  might  make  an  introduction  leisurely,  and 
become  acquainted  with  a  man  to  whom,  though  a  stran- 
ger, he  was  satisfied  that  he  owed  his  existence. 

•  Cornplanter'a  tomahawk  is  now  in  the  State  Indian  Collection,  at 
Albany.  —  TEd.  P 


128  LIFE    OF    MARY   JEMISOX. 

After  he  Lad  taken  the  old  man,  his  father,  he  led  him 
as  a  prisoner  ten  or  twelve  miles  up  the  river,  and  then 
stepped  before  him,  faced  about,  and  addressed  him  in  the 
following  terms : 

"  My  name  is  John  O'Bail,  commonly  called  Corn- 
planter.  I  am  your  son  !  you  are  my  father !  You  are 
now  my  prisoner,  and  subject  to  the  customs  of  Indian 
warfare.  But  you  shall  not  be  harmed  —  you  need  not 
fear,  I  am  a  warrior.  Many  are  the  scalps  which  I  have 
taken.  Many  prisoners  have  I  tortured  to  death.  I  am 
your  son  !  I  am  a  warrior.  I  was  anxious  to  see  you, 
and  to  greet  you  in  friendship.  I  went  to  your  cabin,  and 
took  you  by  force.  But  your  life  shall  be  spared.  In- 
dians love  their  friends  and  their  kindred,  and  treat  them 
with  kindness.  If  now  you  choose  to  follow  the  fortune 
of  your  yellow  son,  and  to  live  with  our  people,  I  will 
cherish  your  old  age  with  plenty  of  venison,  and  you 
shall  live  easy  ;  but  if  it  is  your  choice  to  return  to  your 
fields,  and  live  with  your  white  children,  I  will  send  a 
party  of  my  trusty  young  men  to  conduct  you  back  in 
safety.  I  respect  you,  my  father  ;  you  have  been  friendly 
to  Indians,  and  they  arc  your  friends." 

Old  John  chose  to  return.  Cornplanter,  as  good  as 
his  word,  ordered  an  escort  to  attend  him  home,  which 
was  done  with  the  greatest  care. 

Among  the  prisoners  who  were  brought  to  Genesee, 


i)i:ii-iii:-\\.\-.Mis.  12  t 

William  Xewkirk,  a  man  by  the  nai: 

two  : 

Price  lived  a  while  with  Little  Beard,  and  afterward 

with  Jack  Berry,  an  Indian.    When  he  left  .;  rry, 

lie  wmt  to  Niagara;  where  he  now  resicl 
Newkirk  was  brought  to   Little    Beard'a  Town, 

lived  with    Little    Heard  and   at    Port  Niagara   ahoiit 
year,  and  then  enlisted  under  Butler,  and  went  with  him 
on  an  expedition  t<»  the  Ifonongahela. 

About  this  time,  one  Ebenezer  Allen  ran  away  from 
Pennsylvania, and  came  to  live  among  ua.  lie  was  much 
at  my  house  with  my  son  Thomas j  he  was  always  hon- 
orable, kind,  and  even  generous  to  me;  but  the  history  of 
his  life  Le  ;e  of  crimes  and  baseness  of  the  blai 

dye.     I  have  often  heard  him  relate  his  inglorious  feats, 
and  confess    erimes,   the   rehearsal   of  which  made    my 
blood  curdle,  as  much  accustomed   as   1  was  to   hear  of 
bloody  and  barbarous  deeds. 
6* 


130  LIFE    OF   MART   JEMISOX. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Mary  is  offered  her  freedom  —  She  declines  accepting  —  Her  reasons  — 
Her  favorite  Indian  brother  dies  —  Great  council  at  Big  Tree,  in 
1797  —  Gardeau  reservation  given  to  Mary  by  the  chiefs — Con- 
tained 17,927  acres  of  land  —  Traditions  of  the  Senecas  —  The 
Great  Serpent  at  Xan-de-wa-o. 

Soon  after  the  close  of  the  Revolutionary  War,  my  In- 
dian brother,  Kau-jises-tau-ge-au,  (which  being  interpreted 
signifies  Black  Coals,)  offered  me  my  liberty,  and  told  me 
that  if  it  was  my  choice  I  might  go  to  my  friends. 

My  son  Thomas  was  anxious  that  I  should  go;  and 
offered  to  go  with  me,  and  assist  me  on  the  journey, 
by  taking  care  of  the  younger  children,  and  providing 
food  as  we  traveled  through  the  wilderness.  But  the 
chiefs  of  our  tribe,  suspecting,  from  his  appearance, 
actions,  and  a  few  warlike  exploits,  that  Thomas  would 
be  a  great  warrior,  or  a  good  counselor,  refused  to  let 
him  leave  them  on  any  account  whatever. 

To  go  myself,  and  leave  him,  was  more  than  I  felt  able 
to  do ;  for  he  had  been  kind  to  me,  and  was  one  on  whom 
I  placed  great  dependence.  The  chiefs  refusing  to  let 
him  go  was  one  reason  for  my  resolving  to  stay ;  but 


M.ii-in.-w  \-\n-.  i;;l 

another.  niiTt-  powerfh]  [f  possible,  thai  1  nadj 

large  family  of  Indian  children  that  I  nraai 
ami  that,  if  I  should  be  ao  fortunate  ind  m>  rela- 

tives they  would  despise  them,  if  not  myself,  and  I 
as  enemies,  or,  i  ,  with  a  degree  of  oold  indifl 

which  I  thonghl  I  could  not  endue. 

Aeoordingly,  after  I  had  dulj  I 

told  my  brother  that  it  was  nrj 

the  remainder  of  my  days  with  my  Indian  friends,  ami 
liye  with  my  family  as  I  hitherto  had  done,  He  apjiean  d 
Well  pleased  with  my  resolotlon,  and  informed  me  thai 
that  was  my  choice,  1  Bhonld  have  a  piece  of  land  that  I 
could  call  my  own,  where  I  could  live  unmolested,  and 
have  something  at  my  decease  to  leave  f«>r  the  benefit  of 
my  children. 

In  a  short  time,  he  made  himself  ready  to  <_ro  to  Upper 
Canada;   but  before  he  left  us  he  told  me  he  would  speak 

true  <'f  the  chiefs  at  Buffalo,  to  attend  the  great  council, 

which  he  expected  would  convene  in  a  few   \-  fur- 

:,  and  convey  to  nie  such  a  tract  of  land  a-  1    should 
■elect      My  brother  left    III  as  he  had   proposed,  and  - 

after  died  at  Grand  ltiv<  r. 

Ki  fi  i  stangeao   was    an    excellent    man,  and    erer 

ted  me  with  kindness.     J'erhape  no  one  of  his  tribe, 

at  any  time,  exceeded  him  in  natural  mildness  of  temper 
and  warmth  and  tenderness  of  affection.     If  he  had  taken 


132  LIFE    OF   MART   JEMISON. 

my  life  at  the  time  when  the  avarice  of  the  old  king  in- 
clined him  to  procure  my  emancipation,  it  would  have 
been  done  with  a  pure  heart,  and  from  good  motives.  He 
loved  his  friends',  and  was  generally  beloved.  During 
the  time  that  I  lived  in  the  family  with  him,  he  never 
offered  the  most  trifling  abuse;  on  the  contrary,  his  whole 
conduct  toward  me  was  strictly  honorable.  I  mourned 
his  loss  as  that  of  a  tender  brother,  and  shall  recollect 
him  through  life  with  emotions  of  friendship  and  gratitude. 

I  lived  undisturbed,  without  hearing  a  word  on  the 
subject  of  my  land,  till  the  great  council  was  held  at  Big 
Tree,  in  1797,  when  Farmer's  Brother,  whose  Indian 
name  is  Ho-na-ye-wus,  sent  for  me  to  attend  the  council. 
When  I  got  there,  he  told  me  that  my  brother  had  spoken 
to  him  to  see  that  I  had  a  piece  of  land  reserved  for  my 
use ;  and  that  then  was  the  time  for  me  to  receive  it. 
He  requested  that  I  would  choose  for  myself,  and  de- 
scribe the  bounds  of  a  piece  that  would  suit  me.  I  ac- 
cordingly told  him  the  place  of  beginning,  and  then  went 
round  a  tract  that  I  judged  would  be  sufficient  for  my 
purpose,  (knowing  that  it  would  include  the  Gardeau  Flats,) 
by  stating  certain  bounds  with  which  I  was  acquainted. 

When  the  council  was  opened,  and  the  business  afforded 
a  proper  opportunity,  Farmer's  Brother  presented  my 
claim,  and  rehearsed  the  request  of  my  brother.  Red 
Jacket,  whose  Indian  name  is  Sagu-yu-what-hah,  (which, 


T>i:ii-m:-\v  1-KI& 

interpreted,  la  Keeper-awake,)  opposed  me  and  my  claim 
with  all  his  Inflaenoe  and  eloqaenoe.     Farmi  >ther 

ted  upon  the  necessity,  propriety,  and  expediency  of 
his  proposition,  and  got  the  land  granted.  The  deed  was 
made  and  signed,  securing  to  me  the  title  of  all  the  land 
Iliad  described;  under  the  same  restrictions  and  regu- 
lations that  other  Indian  lands  arc  Bubject  to. 

This  tract  is  more  than  six  miles  long  from 
•.  and  nearly  four  and  three-fourths  miles  wide  from 
north  to  south,  containing  seventeen  thousand  nine  hun- 
dred and  twenty-seven  acres,  with  the  Genesee  River  run- 
ning centrally  through  it.  from  south  to  north.  It  has 
been  known  ever  since  as  the  Gardeau  Tract,  or  the  Gar- 
deau  Reservation. 

Bed  .Jacket  not  only  opposed  my  claim  at  the  council, 
but  he  withheld  my  money  two  or  three  years,  on  the 
account  of  my  lands  having  been  granted  without  his  en- 
sent.  Jasper  Tarrish  and  Horatio  Jones,  who  had  both 
been  taken  prisoners  by  the  Indians,  adopted  and  detained 
with  them  many  years,  the  first  being  the  Indian  a. 
for  the  United  States,  and  the  other  interpreter,  inter- 
l,  and  at  Length  convinced  Eted  Jacket  that  ir  was  the 

white  people,  and  not  the  Indians,  who  had  given  me  the 
land  ;  and  compelled  him  to  pay  OVOT  all  the  money  which 
he  had  retained  on  my  account.  My  land  derived  its 
name,  Gardeau,  from  a  hill  that  is  within  its  limits,  which 


134  LIFE   OF    MARY   JEMISON. 

is  called,  in  the  Seneca  language,  Kautam.  Kautam, 
when  interpreted,  signifies  up  and  down,  or  down  and  up, 
and  is  applied  to  a  hill  that  you  ascend  and  descend  in 
passing ;  or  to  a  valley.  It  has  been  said  that  Gardeau 
was  the  name  of  my  husband  Hiokatoo,  and  that  my  land 
derived  its  name  from  him ;  that,  however,  is  a  mistake  ; 
for  the  old  man  always  considered  Gardeau  a  nickname, 
and  was  uniformly  offended  when  called  by  it. 

My  flats  were  extremely  fertile,  but  needed  more  labor 
than  my  daughters  and  myself  were  able  to  perform,  to 
produce  a  sufficient  quantity  of  grain  and  other  necessary 
productions  of  the  earth  for  the  consumption  of  our 
family.  The  land  had  lain  uncultivated  so  long  that  it 
was  thickly  covered  with  weeds  of  almost  every  descrip- 
tion. In  order  that  we  might  live  more  easy,  Mr.  Parrish, 
with  the  consent  of  the  chiefs,  gave  me  liberty  to  lease  or 
let  my  land  to  white  people  to  till  on  shares.  I  accord- 
ingly let  out  the  greater  part  of  my  improvements,  and 
have  continued  to  do  so,  which  makes  my  task  less  bur- 
densome, while  at  the  same  time  I  am  more  comfortably 
supplied  with  the  means  of  support. 

About  three  hundred  acres  of  my  land,  when  I  first 
saw  it,  was  open  flats,  lying  on  the  Genesee  River,  which 
is  supposed  was  cleared  by  a  race  of  inhabitants  who  pre- 
ceded the  first  Indian  settlements  in  this  part  of  the 
country.  The  Indians  are  confident  that  many  parts  of  this 


IS. 

country  were  settled,  and  f«»r  a  Dumber  of  -h-d, 

by  i!;i  people  of  whom  their  fathers  never  bad  any  tradi- 
tion, as  they  never  had  seen  them.    Whence  those  people 

inated,    and    whither   they  went,  I    ha\e    never   I H 

of  the  eldest  and  wisest    Indian^  pretend  to 
When  1  first  came  to  Genishan,  the  bans  (rook 

had  just  slid   off,  and   exposed   a   !. 

1». 'ties,  which  the    Indians  said  w<  tied  th- 

re  their  fathers  ever  saw  the  place,  rod  that  they  did 
not  know  what  kind  of  people  they  were.     It,  however, 
and  is,  believed  by  our  people  that  the)  w< 

Indi 

The  tradition  of  the  6  [ndians,  in  regard  to  their 

origin,  is,  that  they  broke  <>nt  of  the  earth  from  a  1. 
mountain  at  the  head  of  Canandaigna  Lake;  and  that 
mountain  they  still  venerate  as  the  place  of  their  birth. 
Thence  they  derive  their  name,  M  Ge-nun-de-wah, ,N>  or 
Bill,"  and  are  called  "The  Great  Hill  People," 
which  is  the  taroe definition  of  the  word  Bene 

e  great  hill  at  the  head  of  Canandaigna  Lake,  from 

called  Genundewah,  and  baa  for 

a  long  time  ;  en  the  place  where  the  Indians  of  that 

met   in  council,  to  bold  great  talks,  and  to 

*  T:  uf  the  Seneca9  i8  Nwt  da- 

tra-o,  "a  great  hill."    Benoa  the  name  of  Efonda,   from  -'■ 
44  hilly."  —  [Ej». 

W  F" 


136  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

offer  up  prayers  to  the  Great  Spirit,  on  account  of  its 
having  been  their  birthplace ;  and,  also,  in  consequence 
of  the  destruction  of  a  serpent  at  that  place  in  ancient 
time,  in  a  most  miraculous  manner,  which  threatened  the 
destruction  of  the  whole  of  the  Senecas,  and  barely 
spared  enough  to  commence  replenishing  the  earth. 

The  Indians  say,  that  the  fort  on  the  big  hill,  or  Ge- 
nundewah,  near  the  head  of  Canandaigua  Lake,  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  monstrous  serpent,  whose  head  and  tail 
came  together  at  the  gate.  A  long  time  it  lay  there,  con- 
founding the  people  with  its  breath.  At  length  they 
attempted  to  make  their  escape,  some  with  their  hominy 
blocks,  and  others  with  different  implements  of  household 
furniture ;  and  in  marching  out  of  the  fort  walked  down 
the  throat  of  the  serpent.  Two  orphan  children,  who  had 
escaped  this  general  destruction  by  being  left  on  this  side 
of  the  fort,  were  informed,  by  an  oracle,  of  the  means  by 
which  they  could  get  rid  of  their  formidable  enemy  — 
which  was,  to  take  a  small  bow  and  a  poisoned  arrow, 
made  of  a  kind  of  willow,  and  with  that  shoot  the  serpent 
under  its  scales.  This  they  did,  and  the  arrow  proved 
effectual ;  for,  on  its  penetrating  the  skin,  the  serpent 
became  sick,  and,  extending  itself,  rolled  down  the  hill, 
destroying  all  the  timber  that  was  in  its  way,  disgorging 
itself,  and  breaking  wind  greatly  as  it  went.  At  every 
motion  a  human  head  was  discharged,  and  rolled  down 


DEH-HE-WA-MIS.  1,77 

the  hill  into  the  hike,  where  they  lie  at  this  day  in  a  petri- 
fied state,  haying  ttw  hardness  and  appearance  of  stoi 
and  the   Pagan   Indians  of  the  Seneeas  believe,  that   all 

the  little  snakei  wen  made  of  the  blood  <>f  the  greet 

serpent,  after  it  rolled  into  the  lake. 

To  this  day,  the  Indians  visit  that  sacred  place  to 
mourn  the  loss  of  their  friends,  and  to  celebrate  l 
rites  that  are  peculiar  to  themselves.  To  tin-  knuwi' 
of  whin  people,  there  has  been  no  timber  on  the  great 
hill  since  i;  was  first  discovered  by  them,  though  it  lay 
apparently  in  a  state  of  nature  for  a  great  number  of 
years,  without  cultivation.  Stones  in  the  shape  of  Indians' 
heads  may  be  seen  lying  in  the  lake  in  great  plenty,  which 
are  said  to  be  the  same  that  were  deposited  there  at  the 
death  of  the  serpent. 

The  Seneeas  have  a  tradition,  that  previous  to,  and  for 
some  time  after  their  origin  at  Genundewah,  the  country, 
especially  about  the  lakes,  was  thickly  inhabited  by  a 
of  civil,  enterprising,  and  industrious  people,  who 
wen  totally  destroyed  by  the  great  serpent  that  afterward 
surrounded  the  great  hill  fort,  with  the  assistance  of  others 
of  the  same  Bpeofeij  and  that  they  (the  Seneeas)  went 
into  possession  of  the  improvements  that  were  left. 

In  those  days  the  Indians  throughout  the  whole  country, 
as  the  Beneoas  say,  spoke  one  language;  but  having  he- 
come  considerably  numerous,  the  before-mentioned  great 


138  LIFE   OF   MART   JEmSON. 

serpent,  by  an  unknown  influence,  confounded  their  lan- 
guage, so  that  they  could  not  understand  each  other ; 
which  was  the  cause  of  their  division  into  nations  —  as 
the  Mohawks,  Oneidas,  etc.  At  that  time,  however,  the 
Senecas  retained  the  original  language,  and  continued 
to  occupy  their  mother  hill,  on  which  they  fortified  them- 
selves against  their  enemies,  and  lived  peaceably,  until 
having  offended  the  serpent,  they  were  cut  off  as  I  have 
before  remarked. 


DEn-nE-wA-Mis.  139 


CHAPTER  X. 

Li. tie  Board's  death  —  Singular  Mpentitiou  —  Family  government  — 
Her  sons  Thomas  and  John  quarrel  —  John  murders  Thoma- — 
John  is  tried  and  acquitted  by  the  chiefs  —  Thomas' character  — 
H:s  wife  and  children  —  Death  of  Ili-ok-a-too  —  Ilis  age  and 
funeral  —  Hi.-  character. 

From  the  time  I  secured  my  land,  my  life  passed  for 
many  years  in  an  unvaried  routine  of  superintending  my 
family  and  taking  care  of  my  property,  without  the  occur- 
rence of  any  event  relative  to  me  or  my  affairs  worth  notic- 
ing, and  but  few  in  which  the  nation  or  our  villages  felt 
much  interest. 

About  the  first  of  June,  1S06,  Little  Beard  died,  and 
was  buried  after  the  manner  of  burying  chiefs.  In  his 
lifetime  he  had  been  quite  arbitrary,  and  had  made  some 
enemies  whom  he  hated,  probably,  and  was  not  Ifl 
by  them.  The  grave,  however,  deprives  enmity  of  its 
malignity,  and  revenge  of  it-  keennei 

Little  Beard  had  been  dead  but   a   few   days  when  the 

lipee  of  the  >un  took  place,  OD  the  lGth  of  June, 

Which  excited  in  the  Indians  a  great  degree  of  astoiii>hnunt  ; 

for  as  they  were  ignorant  of  astronomy,  they  were  totally 


140  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

unqualified  to  account  for  so  extraordinary  a  phenomenon. 
The  crisis  was  alarming,  and  something  effectual  must  be 
done  without  delay,  to  remove,  if  possible,  such  coldness 
and  darkness,  which  it  was  expected  would  increase. 
They  accordingly  ran  together  in  the  three  towns  near 
the  Genesee  River,  and  after  a  long  consultation  agreed 
that  Little  Beard,  on  the  account  of  some  old  grudge 
which  he  yet  cherished  toward  them,  had  placed  him- 
self between  them  and  the  sun,  in  order  that  their  corn 
might  not  grow,  and  so  reduce  them  to  a  state  of  starva- 
tion.  Having  thus  found  the  cause,  the  next  thing  was 
to  remove  it,  which  could  only  be  done  by  the  use  of 
powder  and  ball.  Upon  this,  every  gun  and  rifle  was 
loaded,  and  a  firing  commenced,  that  continued  without 
cessation  till  the  old  fellow  left  his  seat,  and  the  obscu- 
rity was  entirely  removed,  to  the  great  joy  of  the  ingeni- 
ous and  fortunate  Indians. 

I  have  frequently  heard  it  asserted  by  white  people, 
and  can  truly  say  from  my  own  experience,  that  the 
time  at  which  parents  take  most  satisfaction  and  comfort 
with  their  families,  is  when  their  children  are  young,  in- 
capable of  providing  for  their  own  wants,  and  are  about 
the  fireside,  where  they  can  be  duly  observed  and  in- 
structed. 

In  the  government  of  their  families  among  the  Indians, 
the  parents  are  very  mild,  the  women  superintending 


DEII-HI>\\  A-MI<.  141 

the  children.    The  word  of  the  father,  bowerer,  ti  law, 

and  must  be  obeyed   l>y  tin*  whole  who   are  ndet  his  au- 
thority. 

The  Indians  art*  very  tenaeJoua  .»f  their  precedence  and 
suj>rt'iuac\  over  their  wire*!  and  the  wires  acknowledge  it 
l»y  their  actions,  with  the  greeted  subserviency,     it 

ruh'  inculcated    in    all    the    Indian   trihes,  and  practj 
generation  after  generation,  that  a  squaw  shall  nut  walk 
before  her  husband,  or  take  the  lead  in  JWt  business.     For 

this  reason  we  DOYef  80S  a    party  on   the   march,  in  which 
squaws  are  not  directly  in  the  rear  of  their  partner* 

Pew  mothers,  perhaps,  have  had  le^s  tronble  with  their 
children  during  their  minority  than  myself.  In  general, 
my  children  were  friendly  t<>  each  other,  and  it  WIS  very 
seldom  that  I  knew  them  t«»  have  the  least  difference  or 
quarrel;  so  far  Indeed  were  they  from  rendering  them- 
selves   OX    me    Uncomfortable,    that  I   considered   m\ 

happy  —  more  so  than  commonly  falls  to  the  lot  of  par- 
ents, especially  t<>  women. 

My  happiness  in  this  respect.  however,  was  oof  without 
alloy;  fbc  m\  ion  Thomas,  from  some  cause  unknown  to 

from  the  time  he  was    a   small    lad.  always  called   his 

brother  John  a  witch,  which  was  the  cause,  as  fchej  grew 

toward  manhood,  of  frequent  and  severe  quarrels  bet-'. 
tln.'uj,  and  gave  me  much  trouble  and  anxietj  for  I 
Fafcty.    After  Thomas  and  John  had  arrived  to  the  If 


142  LIFE    OF    MARY    JEMISOX. 

manhood,  another  source  of  contention  arose  between  them, 
founded  on  the  circumstance  of  John's  having  two  wives. 
Although  polygamy  *  was  tolerated  in  our  tribe,  Thomas 
considered  it  a  violation  of  good  and  wholesome  rules  in 
society,  and  tending  directly  to  destroy  that  friendly 
social  intercourse  and  love  which  ought  to  be  the  happy 
result  of  matrimony  and  chastity.  Consequently,  he 
frequently  reprimanded  John,  by  telling  him  that  his  con- 
duct was  beneath  the  dignity,  and  inconsistent  with  the 
principles  of  good  Indians ;  indecent,  and  unbecoming  a 
gentleman ;  and,  as  he  never  could  reconcile  himself  to 
it,  he  was  frequently  —  almost  constantly,  when  they 
were  together  —  talking  to  him  on  the  subject.  John 
always  resented  such  reprimand  and  reproof  with  a  great 
degree  of  passion,  though  they  never  quarreled,  unless 
Thomas  was  intoxicated. 

In  his  fits  of  drunkenness,  Thomas  seemed  to  lose  all 
his  natural  reason,  and  to  conduct  like  a  wild  or  crazy 
man,  without  regard  to  relatives,  decency,  or  propriety. 
At  such  times  he  often  threatened  to  take  my  life  for  hav- 
ing raised  a  witch,  (as  he  called  John,)  and  has  gone  so 
far  as  to  raise  his  tomahawk  to  split  my  head.  He,  how- 
ever, never  struck  me ;  but  on  John's  account  he  struck 

*  Although  polygamy  has  prevailed  to  a  limited  extent  among  the 
Senecas  in  later  times,  it  was  prohibited  in  earlier  days,  and  con« 
iidered  disgraceful.  —  [Ed, 


DEH-HB-WA-MIB.  1  IS 

Hiokatoo,  and  thereby  excited  in  John  a  high  d< 
indignation,  which  was  extinguished  only  bj  blood. 

For  i  Dumber  of  years  their  difficult  oonseqi 

anhappiness  oontinued,  and  rather  increased,  continually 
exciting  in  my  breast  the  most  fearful  apprehensi 

greatest    anxiety  for  their  safety.      Willi  tears  in  my  i 

I  advised  them  to  become  reconciled  to  each  other,  and 
to  be  friendly ;  told  them  the  oonsequencea  of  their  con- 
tinuing to  cherish  so  much  malignity  and  malice  —  that 
it  would   end   in   tlu-ir   destruction,   the   disgrace  "1"  their 

families,  and  bring  me  down   to   tie-  grave.      No  OM 
Conceive  Of  the  constant    trouble  that    I  daily  endured  on 
their  account — en   the  account   of  my  t\v<>  i 
whom  I  loved  equally,  and  with  all  the  feelings  and  al 
tiou  of  a  tender  mother,  stimulated  by  an  anxious  concern 
for  their  fate.     Parents,  mothers  especially,  will  love  their 
children,  though  ever  so  unkind  and  disobedient.     Their 
of  compassion,  of  real  sentimental  affection,  will  be 
involuntarily  extended  after  them,   in  their  greatest   ax- 
es of   iniquity  ;    and  those   fine   filaments   of  0008**- 
gninity,  which  gently   entwine   themselves   around   the 
filial  love  and  parental  car  noal,  will  be 

tied  and  enlarged  I  mingly  of  Buffi< 

■ii  and  reclaim  the  wanderer.  I  know  that 
Fuch  exercises  are  frequently  unavailing;  but  notwith- 
standing their  ultimate  failure,  it  still  remains  true,  and 


144  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISOX. 

ever  will,  that  the  love  of  a  parent  for  a  disobedient  child 
will  increase,  and  grow  more  and  more  ardent,  so  long  as 
a  hope  of  its  reformation  is  capable  of  stimulating  a  dis- 
appointed breast. 

My  advice  and  expostulations  with  my  sons  were 
abortive ;  and  year  after  year  their  disaffection  for  each 
other  increased.  At  length,  Thomas  came  to  my  house 
on  the  first  day  of  July,  1811,  in  my  absence,  somewhat 
intoxicated,  where  he  found  John,  with  whom  he  imme- 
diately commenced  a  quarrel  on  their  old  subjects  of  dif- 
ference. John's  anger  became  desperate.  He  caught 
Thomas  by  the  hair  of  his  head,  and  dragged  him  out  of 
the  door,  and  there  killed  him,  by  a  blow  which  he  gave 
him  on  the  head  with  his  tomahawk. 

I  returned  soon  after,  and  found  my  son  lifeless  at  the 
door,  on  the  spot  where  he  was  killed.  Xo  one  can  judge 
of  my  feelings  on  seeing  this  mournful  spectacle ;  and 
what  greatly  added  to  my  distress  was  the  fact  that  he 
had  fallen  by  the  murderous  hand  of  his  brother.  I  felt 
my  situation  insupportable.  Having  passed  through 
various  scenes  of  trouble  of  the  most  cruel  and  trying 
kind,  I  had  hoped  to  spend  my  few  remaining  days  in 
quietude,  and  to  die  in  peace,  surrounded  by  my  family. 
This  fatal  event,  however,  seemed  to  be  a  stream  of  woe 
poured  into  my  cup  of  afflictions,  filling  it  even  to  over- 
flowing, and  blasting  all  my  prospects. 


di:h-iii:-wa-mi-.  ]  l g 

As  soon  as  I  had  recovered  I  little  from  the  Bhook 
which  1  felt  at  the  si:_rht  of  my  departed  Mill  ami 
of  the  neighbors  had  oohm  in  to  help  take  em  of  the 
OOrpee,  I  hired  Shanks,  an  Indian,  to  go  to  Buffalo,  and 
carry  the  sorrowful  news  ofThomae'  death  to  our  friemN 
at    that    place,  and    request    tin*  chiefs    to   hold   a  council, 

and  dispoee  of  John  as  they  should  think  proper,    shanks 

set    out    on    his    errand    Immediately,  and  .John,   fearing 

that  he  should  be  apprehended  and  punished  for  tin-  crime 

he  had  committed,  at  the  same  time  went  off  toward 
Caneadea. 

Thomas  was  decently  Interred  in  a  style  corresponding 
with  his  rank. 

The  chiefs  soon  assembled  in  council  on  the  trial  of 
John,  and  after  having  seriously  examined  the  matter 
according  to  their  laws,  justified  his  conduct,  and  acquitted 
him.  They  considered  Thomas  to  have  been  the  first 
trai^  ;•;    and    that,  for   the    abuses   which    he    had 

offered,  he  had  merited  from  John  the  treatment  that  he 
had  •!.      John,  on    learning    the   decision   of   the 

council,  returned  to  his  family. 

Thomas,  except  when  intoxicated,  which  was  not  be- 
nt, wai  a  kind  and  tender  child,  willing  to  aeaM  me 
in  my  labor,  and  to  rcn  •  -r\  obftack  to  my  comfort. 

Hm  natural  abilities  wen-  said  to  be  of  a  superior  i 

and  he  soared  above  the  trifling  subjects  of  revenge  which 
7 


146  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

are  common  among  Indians,  as  being  far  beneath  his 
attention.  In  his  childish  and  boyish  days,  his  natural 
turn  was  to  practice  in  the  art  of  war,  though  he  despised 
the  cruelties  that  the  warriors  inflicted  upon  their  subju- 
gated enemies.  He  was  manly  in  his  deportment,  cour- 
ageous, and  active  ;  and  commanded  respect.  Though  he 
appeared  well  pleased  with  peace,  he  was  cunning  in  In- 
dian warfare,  and  succeeded  to  admiration  in  the  execu- 
tion of  his  plans. 

At  the  age  of  fourteen  or  fifteen  years,  he  went  into 
the  war  with  manly  fortitude,  armed  with  a  tomahawk 
and  scalping-knife ;  and,  when  he  returned,  brought  one 
white  man  a  prisoner,  whom  he  had  taken  with  his  own 
hands,  on  the  west  branch  of  the  Susquthanna  River. 
It  so  happened,  that  as  he  was  looking  out  for  his  enemies, 
he  discovered  two  men  boiling  sap  in  the  woods.  He 
watched  them  unperceived  till  dark,  when  he  advanced 
with  a  noiseless  step  to  the  place  where  they  were  stand- 
ing, caught  one  of  them  before  they  were  apprised  of 
danger,  and  conducted  him  to  the  camp.  He  was  well 
treated  while  a  prisoner,  and  redeemed  at  the  close  of 
the  war. 

At  the  time  Kaujisestaugeau  gave  me  liberty  to  go  to 
my  friends,  Thomas  was  anxious  to  go  with  me ;  but  as  I 
have  before  observed,  the  chiefs  would  not  suffer  him  to 
leave  them,  on  the  account  of  his  courage  and  skill  in  war : 


ih.ii-iii:-\n  A-MIS.  117 

expecting  tliat  they  should  Deed   1  B 

a  great  counselor,  and  ■  chief  when  quite  you  !,  In 

the  last  capacity,  went  two  or  three  times  to  Philadelphia! 
to  assist  in  making  treaties  with  the  people  of  the 

Thomas,  at  the  time  of  bis  death,  was  i  few 
over  fifty-two  yean  old.     Be  was  then  living  with  liis 
fourtli  wife,  having  lost  three;  by  whom  he  bad  ei 
children.      As  lie  was   naturally   good-natured,  and 
sessed  a  friendly  disposition,  he  would  not  nave  eon 
so  untimely  a  death,  had  ii  d  for  his  intemperance. 

lie  fell  a  victim  to  the  l  rdenl  spirits:  a  poison  that 

will  soon  exterminate  the  indian  tribes  In  this  pari  of  the 
country,  and  leave  their  names  without  root  or  branch. 
The  thought  is  melancholy  ;  but  no  argument  cam- 

ples, however  persuasive  or  impressive,  are  sufficient  to 
deter  an  Indian  for  an  hour  from  taking  the  potent 
draught,  which  he  knows  at  the  time  will  derange  his 
facm  luce  him  to  a  level  with  the  brutes,  or  deprive 

him  of  life. 

Ja  D,  Thou  ond  son  by  his  last  wife, 

■who  is  at  this  tune,  l  ^  J :  J .  twenujr-seven  or  twenty -ei 
years  of  ui  ;•»  Dartmouth  College,  in  the  sprii 

>,  for  the  purpose  of  receiving  an  education,  where  it 
>aid  he  was  an   industrious  s<  holar,  and    made   g 
proficiency  in  the  study  of  the  different  branches  of  educa- 
tion to  which  ho  attended.     Having  spent  two  >ears  in 


143  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

that  institution,  he  returned  in  the  winter  of  1818,  and  is 
now  at  Buffalo,  where  I  have  understood  he  contemplates 
the  study  of  medicine  as  a  profession. 

In  the  month  of  November,  1811,  my  husband  Hiok- 
atoo,  who  had  been  sick  of  consumption  for  four  years, 
died  at  the  advanced  age  of  one  hundred  and  three  years, 
as  nearly  as  the  time  could  be  estimated.  He  was  the 
last  that  remained  to  me  of  our  family  connection,  or 
rather  of  my  old  friends  with  whom  I  was  adopted,  except 
a  part  of  one  family,  which  now  resides  at  Tonawanda. 

Hiokatoo  was  buried  decently,  and  had  all  the  insignia 
of  a  veteran  warrior  buried  with  him;  consisting  of  a 
war-club,  tomahawk  and  scalping-knife,  a  powder-flask, 
flint,  a  piece  of  spunk,  a  small  cake,  and  a  cup ;  and  in 
his  best  clothing. 

According  to  the  Indian  mode  of  burial,  the  deceased 
is  laid  out  in  his  best  clothing,  and  put  into  a  coffin  of 
boards  or  bark ;  and  with  him  is  deposited,  in  every  in- 
stance, a  small  cup  and  a  cake.  Generally  two  or  three 
candles  are  put  into  the  coffin,  and  in  a  few  instances,  at 
the  burial  of  a  great  man,  all  his  implements  of  war  are 
buried  by  the  side  of  the  body.  The  coffin  is  then  closed 
and  carried  to  the  grave.  On  its  being  let  down,  the  per- 
son who  takes  the  lead  of  the  solemn  transaction,  or  a 
chief,  addresses  the  dead  in  a  short  speecji,  in  which  he 
charges  him  not  to  be  troubled  about  himself  in  his  new 


I>KH-Hi:-\Y  .-MIS.  1   }    i 

situation,  nor  on  his  Journey,  ud  not  to  trouble  his  M< 
wife,  or  children,  whom  he  hie  left  ;  telle  him  thai,  if  he 
meets  with  strangers  on  hie  way,  he  mnal  inform  them 
what  bribe  he  belongs  to,  who  his  relatives  ere,  tin-  situ- 
ation in  which  la-  left  them;  and  that,  haying  done  this, 
tusl  keep  on  till  he  arrive*  at  the  good  fields  in  the 

country  of  Xauwaneu  ;    that,   WOOD   he   arrives    then 
will  see  all  his  ancestors  and   personal    friends    that    have 

gone  before  him,  who,  together  with  all   the  chiefs  of 

celebrity,  will  receive  him  joyfully,  and  furnish  him  with 
y  article  of  perpetual  happiui 
The  grave  is  now  filled  and  left  till  evening,  when  some 

of  the  DCared  relatives  of  the  dead  build  a  fire  at  the 
I  of  it,  near  which  they  sit  till  morning.  In  this  way 
continue  to  practice  nine  successive  nights,  when, 
believing  that  their  departed  friend  has  arrived  at  the  end 
of  his  journey,  they  discontinue  their  attention.  During 
this  time  the  relatives  of  tl  used  are  not  allowed  to 

da  i. 

rmerly,   frolics  were  held  for  the  dead,  after  the  ex- 
piration of  nine  days,  at  which  all  the  squaws  got  drunk; 

and  ill"  isions  on  which  they  were 

intoxicated  :   hut  lately  thOM  are  discontinued,  and  squaws 

fed  no  delicacy  in  getting  inebriated.1 

•Tl  U  i  of  the  Iroquois  taught  that  it  was  a  jounur 

from    earth   to    heaven,    ot    many    days1  duration.     Originally    it    *as 


150  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

Hiokatoo  was  an  old  man  when  I  first  saw  him ;  but 
he  was  by  no  means  enervated.  During  the  time  of  nearly 
fifty  years  that  I  lived  with  him,  I  received,  according  to 
Indian  customs,  all  the  kindness  and  attention  that  was 
my  due  as  his  wife.  Although  war  was  his  trade  from 
his  youth  till  old  age  and  decrepitude  stopped  his  career, 
he  uniformly  treated  me  with  tenderness,  and  never  of- 
fered an  insult. 

supposed  to  be  a  year,  and  the  period  of  mourning  for  the  departed 
was  fixed  at  that  term.  At  its  expiration  it  was  customary  for  the 
relatives  of  the  deceased  to  hold  a  feast  —  the  soul  of  the  departed 
having  reached  heaven,  and  a  state  of  felicity,  there  was  no  longer  any 
cause  for  mourning.  In  modern  times  the  mourning  period  has  been 
reduced  to  ten  days,  and  the  journey  of  the  spirit  is  now  believed  to 
be  performed  in  three.  The  spirit  of  the  deceased  was  supposed  to 
hover  around  the  body  for  a  season  before  it  took  its  final  departure ; 
and  not  until  after  the  expiration  of  a  year,  according  to  the  ancient  be- 
lief, and  ten  days  according  to  the  present,  did  it  become  permanently  at 
rest  in  heaven.  A  beautiful  custom  prevailed,  in  ancient  times,  of 
capturing  a  bird,  and  freeing  it  over  the  grave  on  the  evening  of  the 
burial,  to  bear  away  the  spirit  to  its  heavenly  rest.  Their  notions  of  the 
state  of  the  soul  when  disembodied  are  vague  and  diversified  ;  but 
they  all  agree  that,  during  the  journey,  it  required  the  same  nourish- 
ment as  while  it  dwelt  in  the  body.  They,  therefore,  deposited  beside 
the  deceased  his  bow  and  arrows,  tobacco  and  pipe,  and  necessary  food 
for  the  journey.  They  also  painted  the  face,  and  dressed  the  body  in  its 
best  apparel.  A  fire  was  built  upon  the  grave  at  night,  to  enable  the 
spirit  to  prepare  its  food.  With  these  tokens  of  affection,  and  these 
superstitious  concernments  for  the  welfare  of  the  deceased,  the  children 
of  the  forest  performed  the  burial  rites  of  their  departed  kindred."  — 
[League  of  the  Iroquois,  p.  174. 


DEH-Iir.-W  A-MIS.  1",J 

I  have  frequently  beard  him  repeal  the  history  of  his 

life  from  his  childhood j  end  when  he  to  that  part 

which  related  t«>  hit  action*)  his  braVery,  and  valor  in 
war;  when  he  spoke  of  the  amboah,tbe  combat,  the  spoil- 
ing of  his  enemies,  and  the  aauiikw  of  his  rietime,<hii 
leemed  strong  with  youthful  ardor,  the  warmth  <»f 
the  able  warrior  aeeined  t<>  animate  his  frame,  ami  to  pro- 
duce th»-  heated  gesture*  which  he  bad  practiced  in  mid- 
lie  waa  ■  man  of  tender  feelingi  fee  his  friei 
y  and  willing  to  assist  them  in  distress,  yet.  as  a  war- 
rior, his  cruelties  t<>  his  enemies  perhaps  were  unparal- 
leled, and  will  nut  admit  a  word  of  palliation. 
10  G 


ft 


152  LIFE    OF    MARY   JEMISON. 


CHAPTER  XL 

Mary's  family  troubles  continue  —  John's  enmity  toward  his  brother 
Jesse  —  They  quarrel  —  Whisky  the  cause  —  John  murders 
Jesse  —  Jesse's  funeral  and  character. 

Being  now  left  a  widow  in  my  old  age,  to  mourn  the 
loss  of  a  husband,  who  had  treated  me  well,  and  with 
whom  I  had  raised  five  children ;  and  having  suffered  the 
loss  of  an  affectionate  son,  I  fondly  fostered  the  hope 
that  my  melancholy  vicissitudes  had  ended,  and  that  the 
remainder  of  my  time  would  be  characterized  by  nothing 
unpropitious.  My  children  dutiful  and  kind,  lived  near 
me,  and  apparently  nothing  obstructed  our  happiness. 

But  a  short  time,  however,  elapsed,  after  my  husband's 
death,  before  my  troubles  were  renewed  with  redoubled 
severity. 

John's  hand  having  been  once  stained  in  the  blood  of  a 
brother,  although  acquitted  of  murder  by  the  chiefs,  it  was 
not  strange  that  every  person  of  his  acquaintance  should 
shun  him,  from  a  fear  of  his  repeating  upon  them  the 
same  ceremony  that  he  had  practiced  upon  Thomas.  My 
son  Jesse  went  to  Mount  Morris,  a  few  miles  from  home, 
on  business,  in  the  winter  after  the  death  of  his  father; 


DEH-HE-WA-MI&  ].',:; 

and  it  bo  happened  thai  his  l»mt  h.-r  John  was  there,  who 
requested  Jesse  to  oome  home  with  him.    Ji 
thai  John  would  oommenoe  a  quarrel  with  him  on  the 
way.  declined  the  invitation,  and  tarried  over  sight 

Prom  thai  time  John  conceived  himself  despised  by 
.1       .  snd  was  highly  enraged  at  the  treatmenl  which  1 1 « - 
had  received  from  him.     Very  little  was  said,  howi 
and  it  all  passed  oil  apparently,  till  Bometime  in  the  month 

Of  May,  1812;  at  which  time  Mr.  Etoberl  Whah-y.  who 
lived  in  the  town  of  Castile,  within  four  miles  of  me.  came 

to  my  house  early  nil  Monday  morning,  to  hire  George 
Chongo,  my  son-in-law,  and  John  and  Jesse,  to  Lro  that 
oay  and  help  him  Blide  a  quantity  of  boards  from  the  top 

of  the  hill  to  the  river,  where  he  calculated  to  build  a 
raft  of  them  for  market. 

They  all  concluded  to  go  with  .Mr.  Whah-y,  and   made 
read.  possible.     But  before  they  set  out,  I 

charged  them  not  to  drink  any  whisky ;  for  1  was  confident 
that  if  they  did,  they  would  surely  have  a  quarrel,  in  con- 
Bequence  of  it.  They  went  and  worked  till  almost  night, 
when  a  quarrel  ensued  between  Chongo  and  Jesse,  in  oon« 

Bequenee  of  the  whisky  which  they  had  drank  through 
the   day,  which   terminated   in   a   battle,  and  OhongO  got 

whipped. 

When  Jesse  had  gol  through  with  Chongo,  he  told  Mr. 

Whaley  that   he   would  go  home,  and  directly  went   off. 
7« 


1-54  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

He,  however,  went  b*ut  a  few  rods,  before  he  stopped  and 
lay  down  by  the  side  of  a  log  to  wait,  as  was  sup- 
posed, for  company.  John,  as  soon  as  Jesse  was  gone, 
went  to  Mr.  Whaley,  with  his  knife  in  his  hand,  and  bade 
him  jogo;  i.  e.,  be  gone;  at  the  same  time  telling  him  that 
Jesse  was  a  bad  man.  Mr.  Whaley,  seeing  that  his  coun- 
tenance exhibited  a  demon-like  malignity,  and  that  he 
was  determined  upon  something  desperate,  was  alarmed  for 
his  own  safety,  and  turned  toward  home,  leaving  Chongo 
on  the  ground  drunk,  near  to  where  Jesse  had  laid,  who 
by  this  time  had  got  up,  and  was  advancing  toward  John. 
Mr.  Whaley  was  soon  out  of  hearing  of  them ;  but  some 
of  his  workmen  stayed  till  it  was  dark.  Jesse  came  up  to 
John,  and  said  to  him,  "You  want  more  whisky,  and 
more  fighting,"  and  after  a  few  words  went  at  him,  to  try 
in  the  first  place  to  get  away  his  knife.  In  this  he  did 
not  succeed,  and  they  parted.  By  this  time  the  night  had 
come  on,  and  it  was  dark.  Again  they  clenched,  and  at 
length  in  their  struggle  they  both  fell.  John,  having  his 
knife  in  his  hand,  came  under;  and  in  this  situation  gave 
Jesse  a  fatal  stab  with  his  knife,  and  repeated  the  blows  till 
Jesse,  crying  out  "Brother  you  have  killed  me,"  quit  his 
hold,  and  settled  back  upon  the  ground.  Upon  hearing 
this,  John  left  him,  came  to  Thomas'  widow's  house,  told 
them  that  he  had  been  fighting  with  their  uncle,  whom  he 
killed,  and  showed  them  his  knife. 


l»l.Il-HI>\\  a-.MIS.  ].,.", 

N.  \t  morning,  on  as  it   wuf  light.  Thm, 

John's  children  came  and   told   me   lliat    Jesse  Wi 

in  the  woods,  and  also  Informed  i:  •  in-  came  1>- 

death.  John  soon  followed  them,  and  Informed  me  him- 
self of  all  that  had  taken  place  between  him  md  Ids 
brother,  and  :  to  he  Bomewhal  BorrowrVri  for  his  con- 

duct.     You  can  better  imagine  what   my  fcelin 
than  1  can  describe  them.  My  darling  son  —  i 
child — him  on  whom  [depended  —  \  \-  and  . 

of  a  helping  hand  ! 

A-  -  it  was  i  n!  for  me,  I  got  Mr.  I 

Jamison  (of  whom  I  shall  have  oooasion  to  -peak.)  I 
with  his  sleigh  to  where  Jesse  was,  and  bring  him  home  — 
a  di-  i  f  three  or  four  miles.     My  daughter  Polly 

arrived  at  the  fatal  spot  lir>i  ;  we  got  there  BOOn  after 
her,  though  J  went  the  whole  distance  on  foe  this 

time,  who  was  1,-ft   on  the  ground  drunk  the 

night  before,  had  1>  loher,  and  sensible  of  the  g 

misfortune  which  had  happened  to  our  family. 

J  \  ■.Mm,'  with  grit-fat  the  sight  of  my  murdered 

far  l«--t  the  command  of  myi  boheal- 

frantic  ;  and  those  who  were 
to  hold  me  froi  r  him. 

On  examining  ti  found  that  it  had 

•  en    WOOnds,  BO    deep    and    large    that    ii 
believed   that  either  of  them  would  have  proved  mortal. 


i. 


156  LIFE   OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

The  corpse  was  ca#ied  to  my  house,  and  kept  till  the 
Thursday  following,  when  it  was  buried  after  the  manner 
of  burying  white  people. 

Jesse  was  twenty-seven  or  eight  years  old  when  he  was 
killed.  His  temper  had  been  uniformly  very  mild  and 
friendly ;  and  he  was  inclined  to  copy  after  the  white 
people,  both  in  his  manners  and  dress.  Although  he  was 
naturally  temperate,  he  occasionally  became  intoxicated ; 
but  never  was  quarrelsome  or  mischievous.  With  the 
white  people  he  was  intimate,  and  learned  from  them 
their  habits  of  industry,  which  he  was  fond  of  practicing, 
especially  when  my  comfort  demanded  his  labor.  As  I 
have  observed,  it  is  the  custom  among  the  Indians  for 
the  women  to  perform  all  the  labor  in  and  out  of  doors, 
and  I  had  the  whole  to  do,  with  the  help  of  my  daughters, 
till  Jesse  arrived  to  a  sufficient  age  to  assist  us.  He  was 
disposed  to  labor  in  the  cornfield,  to  chop  my  wood,  milk 
my  cows,  and  attend  to  any  kind  of  business  that  would 
make  my  task  the  lighter.  On  the  account  of  his  having 
been  my  youngest  child,  and  so  willing  to  help  me,  I  am 
sensible  that  I  loved  him  better  than  I  did  either  of  my 
other  children.  After  he  began  to  understand  my  situ- 
ation, and  the  means  of  rendering  it  more  easy,  I  never 
wanted  for  anything  that  was  in  his  power  to  bestow  ; 
but  since  his  death,  as  I  have  had  all  my  labor  to  perform 
alone,  I  have  constantly  seen  hard  times. 


DEII-ITE-Wa-MI*.  157 

Jesse  shunned  Um  oompany  <>f  his  brothers,  and  the 
Indians  generally  and  never  attended  their  (roll 
it  was  supposed  that  this,  together  with  my  partialir. 
him,  were  tin*  causes  which  excited  in  John  ><>  Lrreat  a 

of  envy  t hat  nothing  short  of  deatli  Would  sati>fv  it.* 

*  "Soon  after  (he  War  of  181S,  an  altercation  occurred  bi-twecn 
David  Reese,  (who  was  at  that  time  the  government  black.-mith  for 
the  BflMOM,  upon  the  I  :i  near  Buffalo,)  and  a  Seneca  Indian 

called  Young  King,  which   resulted  in  a  PM  blow  with   a  scythe, 
inflicted  '  which  nearly  severed  one  of  the  Indian's  arms;  bo 

near,  in  fact,  that  amputation  was  immediate!  i   to.     The  cir- 

cumstance created  considerable  excitement  among  the  Indians,  which 
extended  to  Gardeau,  the  then  home  of  the  Jemison  family.  John 
Jemison  headed  a  party  from  there,  and  went  to  Buffalo,  giving  out,  as 
he  traveled  along  the  road,  that  he  was  going  to  kill  Reese.  The 
author  saw  him  on  his  way,  and  recollects  how  well  he  personated  the 
ideal  "Angel  of  Death."  His  weapons  were  the  war-club  and  the 
tomahawk ;  red  paint  was  daubed  on  his  swarthy  face,  and  long 
bunches  of  horse-hair,  colored  red,  were  dangling  from  each  arm. 
His  warlike  appearance  was  well  calculated  to  give  an  earnest  to  his 
:s.  Reese  was  kept  secreted,  and  thus,  in  all  probability,  avoided 
the  fate  that  even  kindred  had  met  at  the  hands  of  John  Jemison."  — 
[Turner's  History  of  m  Holland  Purchase,  p.  I 


158  LIFE   OF   MARY  JEMISON. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Mary's  pretended  cousin,  George  Jemison  —  His  poverty  —  Her  kind- 
ness and  assistance  —  His  ingratitude  —  Attempt  to  defraud  her  of 
a  part  of  her  Reservation  —  Is  expelled  from  the  premises. 

A  year  or  two  before  the  death  of  my  husband,  Capt. 
H.  Jones  sent  me  word  that  a  cousin  of  mine  was  then 
living  on  Genesee  Flats,  by  the  name  of  George  Jemison; 
and  as  he  was  very  poor,  thought  it  advisable  for  me  to 
go  and  see  him,  and  take  him  home  to  live  with  me  on 
my  land.  My  Indian  friends  were  pleased  to  hear  that 
one  of  my  relatives  was  so  near,  and  also  advised  me  to 
send  for  him  and  his  family  immediately.  I  accordingly 
had  him  and  his  family  moved  into  one  of  my  houses,  in 
the  month  of  March,  1810. 

He  said  that  he  was  my  father's  brother's  son — that 
his  father  did  not  leave  Europe  till  after  the  French  war 
in  America,  and  that  when  he  did  come  over,  he  settled  in 
Pennsylvania,  where  he  died.  George  had  no  personal 
knowledge  of  my  father ;  but  from  information,  was  con- 
fident that  the  relationship  which  he  claimed  between 
himself  and  me  actually  existed.    Although  I  had  never 


DEH-HB-W1-MI& 

re  hr-ard  <>f  my  father  ha 
(him  who  was  killed  at  Fort  N 
In*  might  have  had  ethers;  and,  as  the  b1 
carried  with  it  a  probability  that  it  was  brae,  I 
him  as  i  kinsnian,  and  treated  him  with  - 
friendship  which  his  situation  demanded. 
I  found  that  he  was  destitute  of  the 

•.  and  in  debt  to  the   amount   ol 

out  the  ability  to  pay  one  cent     Be  had  dog 
finally  was  completely  poor.     1   paid  his  debts  to  the 

amount  I  iy-two  dollars,  and  bought  him  a  I 

which  I   paid  twenty  dollars  ;   and  a   sow  and  pigs,  that  I 
paid   eight  dollars   for.     I    also   paid   sixteen   dollar- 
pork  which   I   gave  him.   and  furnished   him   with   ol 
provisions  and  furniture;  *o  that  his  family  was  comibrt- 
ahle.     As  h»-  v. .  titute  of  a  teajij,  I   furnished  him 


team, 


with  one,  and    also   supplied  him  with   t<>.  Is    for  far;. 

I        ddition  to    all  this,  1    let    him    haw   .me    of  Thomas/ 

sasons, 
My  only  object  in  mentioning  his   poverty,  and  the 
articles   with   which   I  rapplied  him,  is  to  show  how 
ungrateful  a  person  can  he  for  favors  reo  rod  how 

they  will  apparently  forget  charitable  (hviU,  and 
ainat  tin-  interest  of  a  benefactor. 
Thus  furnished  with  the  i  ry  impl< 

I  ::i,  and   as  much  land   BS  he  OOuld   till, 


160  LIFE    OF    MARY    JEMISON. 

he  commenced  farming  on  my  flats,  and  for  some  time 
labored  well.  At  length,  however,  he  got  an  idea  that  if 
he  could  become  the  owner  of  a  part  of  my  reservation, 
he  could  live  more  easily,  and  certainly  be  more  rich ;  and 
accordingly  set  himself  about  laying  a  plan  to  obtain  it, 
in  the  easiest  manner  possible. 

I  supported  Jemison  and  his  family  eight  years,  and 
probably  should  have  continued  to  have  done  so  to  this 
day,  had  it  not  been  for  the  occurrence  of  the  following 
circumstance : 

When  he  had  lived  with  me  some  six  or  seven  years,  a 
friend  of  mine  told  me  that  as  Jemison  was  my  cousin, 
and  very  poor,  I  ought  to  give  him  a  piece  of  land,  that 
he  might  have  sometbing  whereon  to  live  that  he  could 
call  his  own.  My  friend  and  Jemison  were  then  together 
at  my  house,  prepared  to  complete  a  bargain.  I  asked 
how  much  land  he^anted  ?  Jemison  said  that  he  should 
be  glad  to  receive  his  own  field,  (as  he  called  it.)  contain- 
ing about  fourteen  acres,  and  a  new  one  that  contained 
twenty-six.  I  observed  to  them  that  as  I  was  incapable 
of  transacting  business  of  that  nature,  I  would  wait  till 
Mr.  Tbomas  Clute,  (a  neighbor  on  whom  I  depended,) 
should  return  from  Albany,  before  I  should  do  anything 
about  it.  To  this  Jemison  replied,  that  if  I  waited  till 
Mr.  Clute  returned,  he  should  not  get  the  land  at  all ;  and 
appeared  very  anxious  to  have  the  business  closed  with 


i'i:ii-ni>\\  a-.mi<.  \r,\ 

out  delft/.     Ol  my  ]>art.  1  frit  disposed  to  irive  liim 

laml;  hut  knowing  my  ignorance  of  writing,  feared  I 
it  alone,  leal  thej  might  include  as  moon  land  ta  they 

pleased,  without  my  knowled| 

They  then  read  the  ih^-d.  which  my  friend  had  prepared 

mie  from  home,  describing  i  piece  of  land  hy 

certain  hounds  that  were  ■  specified  number  of  chains 

and  links  from  each  other.     Nol  understanding  the  lei 

of  a  chain  or  link,  I  described  the  hounds  of  a  | 

land  that  1  intended  Jemison  Bhonld  have,  which  they 
said  was  just  the  same  that  the  deed  contained,  and  no 
more.  I  told  theni  that  the  deed  inu>t  not  include  a  lot 
that  was  eulled  the  Steele  place,  and  they  assured  mo 
that  it  did  not.  Upou  this  —  putting  confidence  in  them 
both  —  I  signed  the  deed  to  George  Jemison,  containing, 
and  conveying  to  him,  as  I  supposed,  forty  acres  of  land. 
The  deed  being  completed,  they  chimed  me  never  to 
mention  the  bargain  which  I  had  then  made  to  any  per- 
Bonj  because  if  I  did,  they  said,  it  would  spoil  the  con- 
tact. The  whole  matter  was  afterward  disclosed;  when 
it  was  found  that  that  deed,  instead  of  containing  only 

forty  at  :  ained   four  hundred,  and  that  one-half  of 

'ually  1  to  my  friend,  as  it  had  been  given  to 

him  hy  Jen  a  reward  for  his  trouble  in  procuring 

the  deed  in  the  fraudulent  manner  above  mentioned. 

M\  friend,  however,  by  the  advice  of  some  Well-disposed 


162  LIFE    OF    MARY   JEMISON. 

people,  a  while  afterward  gave  up  his  claim.  George 
Jemison,  however,  held  on  to  his  claim ;  but  knowing 
that  he  had  no  title  to  the  land — even  if  I  had  then 
possessed  the  power  of  conveying,  which  it  since  appears 
that  I  did  not  —  as  the  deed  was  void,  having  been  ob- 
tained by  falsehood  and  fraud,  he  dared  not  press  his 
claims  under  it  himself,  for  fear  cf  being  punished  for  a 
misdemeanor.  He  therefore  sold  his  claim  for  a  mere 
trifle,  to  a  gentleman  in  the  south  part  of  Genesee  county, 
who  lost  that  trifle,  whatever  it  was.  But  had  Jemison 
been  content  with  getting  a  deed  of  the  forty  acres  which 
I  intended  to  have  given  him,  and  not  have  undertaken  to 
defraud  me  out  of  more,  I  should  have  made  his  title 
good  to  that  land  when  I  did  receive  the  power  ;  and  the 
forty  acres  would  have  been  worth  to  him  from  forty  to 
fifty  dollars  per  acre.  This  is  another  proof  that,  in  all 
cases,  "  honesty  is  the  best  policy." 

Some  time  after  the  death  of  my  son  Thomas,  one  of 
his  sons  went  to  Jemison  to  get  the  cow  that  I  had  let 
him  have  for  two  years ;  but  Jemison  refused  to  let  her 
go,  and  struck  the  boy  so  violent  a  blow  as  to  almost  kill 
him.  Jemison  then  ran  to  Jellis  Clute,  Esq.,  to  procure 
a  warrant  to  take  the  boy ;  but  Young  King,  an  Indian 
chief,  went  down  to  Squawky  Hill,  to  Mr.  Clute's,  and 
settled  the  affair,  by  Jemison's  agreeing  never  to  use  that 
club  again.    Having  satisfactorily  found  out  the  unfriendly 


DBH-m-WA-MIS.  1C3 

disposition  of  my  cousin  toward  me,  I   go(   bin 
premise!  as  soon  a<  possible. 
I  am  now  confident  thai  George  Jemisoa  li  nol 
sin,  but  that  be  claimed  relationship  only  to  obtain 


164  LIFE    OF    MARY   JEMISON. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

John  Jemison  murdered  —  His  funeral,  life,  and  character  —  His  widow 
and  children  —  His  murderers  flee  —  Tall  Chief's  speech  —  They 
return  —  Their  fate. 

Trouble  seldom  comes  single.  While  George  Jemison 
was  busily  engaged  in  his  pursuit  of  wealth  at  my  ex- 
pense, another  event  of  a  much  more  serious  nature 
occurred,  which  added  greatly  to  my  afflictions,  and  con- 
sequently destroyed  at  least  a  part  of  the  happiness  which 
I  had  anticipated  was  laid  up  in  the  archives  of  Provi- 
dence, to  be  disposed  of  on  my  old  age. 

My  son  John  was  a  doctor,  considerably  celebrated 
among  the  Indians  of  various  tribes  for  his  skill  in  curing 
their  diseases,  by  the  administration  of  roots  and  herbs, 
which  he  gathered  in  the  forests,  and  other  places,  where 
they  had  been  planted  by  the  hand  of  Nature. 

In  the  month  of  April,  or  first  of  May,  1817,  he  was 
called  upon  to  go  to  Buffalo,  Cattaraugus,  and  Alleghany, 
to  cure  some  who  were  sick.  He  went,  and  was  absent 
about  two  months.  When  he  returned,  he  observed  the 
Great  Slide  of  the  bank  of  Genesee  River,  a  short  dis- 
tance above  my  house,  which  had  taken  place  during  his 


:■;:    • 


RDEK  "I    ONI    Ot    IIKH    SONS,    I;\    111  —   BROTHER 


{-fil.-v.  K,7 

absence :  audi  considering  thai  «•; 

;      i  of  his  own  death,  called  al  his  sister  N 

her  that  he  Bhould  live  but  a  few  days,  and  wepl  bitt 

.lie  oear  approach  of  his  dissolution, 
ored  iade  him  that  his  trouble  was  in. 

that  he  ought  not  to  I"-  affected  by  a  fancy  which  waa 

nary.     Ber  arguments  were  ineffectual,  and 
n<»  alleviation  to  his  m<  otal  Bufl 

Prom  his  e  iif  went   t<>  bis  own  bouse,  where  ho 

only  two  .  and  t!  8    lawky  Hill, 

to  procure  money,  with  which  to  purchase  flour  for  the 
use  of  hi-  family. 

While  at  Squawky  Hill  he  got  into  the  company  of  two 
Bquawky  Hill  Indians,  whose  names  were  Doctor  and 
Jack,  with  whom  he  drank  freely,  and  in  the  afternoon 
had  a  desperate  quarrel,  in  which  his  opponent 

afterward  understood,  agreed  to  kill  him.     The  <[uar- 
rel  ended,  and  each  appeared  to  1..-  friendly.    John  bought 

>its,  of  which  they  all  drank,  and  the: 
home.    John  and  an  Allege        :   dian  were  on  hoi 
and  Doctor  and  Jack  were  on  fool     I'  was  dark  when 
thc\  They  had  not  proceeded  far  when  D< 

and.  ed  another  quarrel  with  John,  clem 

and  dragged  him  off  his  DOT  then  With  I 

him  blow  "ii  hit  head  that  BOOM  Of  his  brains 

were  discharged  from  the  wound.    Tin  -any  Indian, 


168  LIFE   OF   MARY   JEMISOX. 

fearing  that  his  turn  would  come  next,  fled  for  safety  as 
fast  as  possible. 

John  recovered  a  little  from  the  shock  he  had  received 
and  endeavored  to  get  to  an  old  hut  that  stood  near ;  but 
they  caught  him,  and  with  an  ax   cut   his  throat,  and 
beat  out  his  brains,  so  that  when  he  was  found,  the  con- 
tents of  his  skull  were  lying  on  his  arms. 

Some  squaws  who  heard  the  uproar,  ran  to  find  out  the 
cause  of  it ;  but  before  they  had  time  to  offer  their  assist- 
ance, the  murderers  drove  them  into  a  house,  and  threat- 
ened to  take  their  lives  if  they  did  not  stay  there,  or  if 
they  made  any  noise. 

Next  morning  Mr.  Clute  sent  me  word  that  John  was 
dead;  and  also  informed  me  of  the  means  by  which  his 
life  was  taken.  A  number  of  people  went  from  Gardeau 
to  where  the  body  lay,  and  Dr.  Levi  Brundridge  brought 
it  home,  where  the  funeral  was  attended  after  the  manner 
of  the  white  people.  Mr.  Benjamin  Luther  and  Mr.  William 
Wiles  preached  sermons  and  performed  the  funeral  ser- 
vices ;  and  myself  and  family  followed  the  corpse  to  the 
grave  as  mourners.  I  had  now  buried  my  three  sons, 
who  had  been  snatched  from  me  by  the  hands  of  violence, 
when  I  least  expected  it. 

Although  John  had  taken  the  life  of  his  two  brothers, 
and  caused  me  unspeakable  trouble  and  grief,  his  death 
made  a  solemn  impression  upon  my  mind,  and  seemed,  in 


DEH-HK-WA-MIS,  \C,{) 

iddition  to  my  former  misfortunes,  enough  to  brine  down 

.    hairs  with  SOTTOW  U)  ihe  \<\,  OB  a  sec- 

•  'iid  Lhouglrt,  I  copUJ  nut  mourn  for  him  as   I   had  for  my 
e  I  knew  thai  his  death  was  just, 
:  he  had  deterred  for  ■  long  time,  from  the  hni 

Join's  vi©  •  greed  and  so  aggravated  that  I 

ha\«-  nothin  j  in  hie  favor;  yet,  as  i  ojoiher,  I  pit- 

ied li i in  while  he  lived,  and  ha\e  ever  felt    a  gieti  d« 

of  sorrow  for  him,  beonnne  of  ins  had  conduct, 

Prom  ln<   childhood,  lie   carried  something   in   his   fea- 
tures Indicative  of  in  evil  disposition,  that  would  result 
in  tlie  perpetration  of  enormities  of  some  kind;  and  it 
the  opinion  and  saying  of  Ebeneier  Allen  that  he 

would  he  a  had  man,  and  he  guilty  of  some  crime  deserv- 
ing of  death.     There  is    no  doutyf    hut  what    thoughts  of 
murder  rankled  in  his  breast, and  disturbed  his  mind  1 
in   his   sleep;    f«»r  he   once   dreamed   that    he   had   killed 
nas  for  a  trifling  offense,  ami  thereby  forfeited  his 

own  life.  Alarmed  si  the  revelation,  and  fearing  that  he 
might  in  some  Onguarded  moment  destroy  lii^  hrother,  he 
went  to  the  Blank  Chief,  to  whom  he  told  the  dream,  and 
expressed    1,  that    the    vision    Would    he    verified. 

Having  related  the  dream,  together  with  his  feelings  on 

the  subject,  he  ssked  foe  the  host  advice  that  his  old 

friend  was  capable  of  giving-,  to  prevent  so  sad  an  event. 
11 


170  LIFE    OF    MARY   JEMISON. 

The  Black  Chief,  with  his  usual  promptitude,  told  him, 
that  from  the  nature  of  the  dream  he  was  fearful  that 
something  serious  would  take  place  between  him  and 
Thomas ;  and  advised  him  by  all  means  to  govern  his 
temper,  and  avoid  any  quarrel  which  in  future  he  might 
see  arising,  especially  if  Thomas  was  a  party.  John, 
however,  did  not  keep  the  good  counsel  of  the  chief;  for, 
soon  after  he  killed  Thomas,  as  I  have  related. 

John  left  two  wives,  with  whom  he  had  lived  at  the 
same  time,  and  raised  nine  children.  His  widows  are  now 
living  at  Canneada,  with  their  father,  and  keep  their  chil- 
dren with  and  near  them.  His  children  are  tolerably 
white,  and  have  got  light-colored  hair.  John  died  about 
the  last  day  of  June,  1817,  aged  fifty-four  years. 

Doctor  and  Jack,  having  finished  their  murderous  de- 
sign, fled  before  they  could  be  apprehended,  and  lay  six 
weeks  in  the  woods  back  of  Canisteo.  They  then  re- 
turned, and  sent  me  some  wampum  by  Chongo,  my  son- 
in-law,  and  Sun-ge-gaw,*  that  is,  Big  Kettle,  expecting 

*"The  greatest  of  all  human  crimes,  murder,  was  punished  with 
death  ;  but  the  act  was  open  to  condonation.  Unless  the  family  were 
appeased,  the  murderer,  as  with  the  ancient  Greeks,  was  given  up  to 
their  private  vengeance.  They  could  take  his  life  wherever  they  found 
him,  even  after  the  lapse  of  years,  without  being  held  accountable.  A 
present  of  white  wampum  sent  on  the  part  of  the  murderer  to  the 
family  of  his  victim,  when  accepted,  forever  obliterated  the  memory  of 
the  transaction." —  [League  of  the  Iroquois,  p.  331. 


M.II-Hi.-W  A-Mls.  17| 

I  WOOld  pardon  them,  and  siifTer  them  to  liv. 

had  tli  their  tribe.     I.  however,  would  ooi 

their  wampom,  hut  •         ted  that,  rather  than  haTe  them 

killed,  I:  Id  run  away  and  keep  Olll  Of  dan 

Ob  their  receiving  back  the  wampom,  the]  took  my 

and  prepared  to  leave  their  country  and  people 

immediately.    Their  relatii  ompanied  them  i  short 

ince  on  their  journey,  and  when  about  to  part,  tln-ir 

old  uncle,  the  Tall  Chief,  addressed  them  in  the  folloi 

pathetic  and  sentimental  speech: 

-•I  bear  my  i  When  the-  Great  spirit 

[ndi  made  them  all  good,  and  gave  them 

all  good  cornfields;  good  rivers,  well  stored  with  fish; 
good  forests,  filled  with  game,  and  good  bows  and  arrows. 
But  ?ery  BOOn  each  wanted  more  than  his  share,  and  In- 
dians quarrel*  d  with  Indians,  and  some  were  killed,  and 
othen  were  wounded  Then  the  Great  Spirit  mat'; 
very  good  word,  and  put  it  in  every  Indian'.-  breast,  to 

tell  us  when  we   have   done    :_r""d.  or  when  we  have   done 
—  and  that  word  DAI  never  told  a  lie. 

-•I  '  whenever  yoo  have  stole* or  got  drank, or 

lied,  thai  good  word  has  told  yoo  that  yon  w<  i 

Indiana,  and  made  you  afraid  ofgood  lndian>;   and  D 

you  ashamed,  and  took  down. 

••  Friends!  your  crime   is  greater  than  all  those;  you 


172  LIFE    OF    MARY   JEMISOX. 

have  killed  an  Indian  in  a  time  of  peace;  and  made  the 
-wind  hear  his  groans,  and  the  earth  drink  his  blood.  You 
are  bad  Indians  !  Yes,  you  are  very  bad  Indians ;  and 
what  can  you  do  ?  If  you  go  into  the  woods  to  live 
alone,  the  ghost  of  John  Jemison  will  follow  you,  crying 
" Blood!  blood!  "  and  will  give  you  no  peace.  If  you 
go  to  the  land  of  your  nation,  there  that  ghost  will  at- 
tend you,  and  say  to  your  relatives,  "  See  my  murderers ! " 
If  you  plant,  it  will  blast  your  corn ;  if  you  hunt  it  will 
scare  your  game ;  and  when  you  are  asleep,  its  groans, 
and  the  sight  of  an  avenging  tomahawk,  will  awake  you ! 
What  can  you  do  ?  Deserving  of  death,  you  can  not 
live  here ;  and  to  fly  from  your  country,  to  leave  all 
your  relatives,  and  to  abandon  all  that  you  have  known 
to  be  pleasant  and  dear,  must  be  keener  than  an  arrow, 
more  bitter  than  gall,  more  terrible  than  death !  And 
how  must  we  feel  ?  Your  path  will  be  muddy ;  the 
woods  will  be  dark ;  the  lightnings  will  glance  down  the 
trees  by  your  side,  and  you  will  start  at  every  sound ! 
Peace  has  left  you,  and  you  must  be  wretched. 

"Friends,  hear  me,  and  take  my  advice.  Return  with 
us  to  your  homes.  Offer  to  the  Great  Spirit  your  best 
wampum,  and  try  to  be  good  Indians.  And  if  those 
whom  you  have  bereaved  shall  claim  your  lives  as  their 
only  satisfaction,  surrender  them  cheerfully,  and  die  like 
good  Indians.     And  —  " 


DEH-HB-Wi-MIg.  173 

Here  Jack,  highly  incensed,  Interrupted  the  old  man, 
and  bade  bin  stop  peaking,  or  he  would  take  his  life. 
Affrighted  at  tin-  appearaaee  of  bo  much  desperation,  the 

company  hastened  toward  home,  and  left  Doctor  and 
Jack  t<>  consult  their  own  feelings. 

A-  -<  "ii  at  they  were  alone,  Jack  said  to  Doctor,  "I 
had  rather  die  here  than  maw  my  country  and  friends. 
Tut  the  muzzle  of  your  rifle  into  my  mouth,  and  I  will 
put  the  muzzle  of  mine  into  yours,  and  at  a  given  signal 
we  will  discharge  them,  and  rid  ourselves  at  once  of  all 
the  troubles  under  which  we  now  labor,  and  satisfy  the 
claims  which  justice  holds  against  us." 

Doctor  heard  the  proposition,  and,  after  a  moment's 
pause,  made  the  following  reply  :  u  I  am  as  sensible  as 
you  can  be  of  the  unhappy  situation  in  which  we  have 
placed  ourselves.  "We  are  bad  Indians.  We  have  for- 
feited our  lives,  and  must  expect  in  some  way  to  atone 
for  our  crime.  But,  because  we  are  bad  and  miserable, 
shall  we  make  ourselves  worse  ?  If  we  were  now  inno- 
cent, and  in  a  calm,  reflecting  moment  should  kill  our- 
BelTeS,  that  UA  would  make  us  bad,  and  deprive  us  of 
our  share  of  the  good  hunting  in  the  land  where  our 
fathers  have  gOD€  !  What  would  Little  Beard  say  to  us 
on  our  arrival  at  his  cabin?  lie  would  say.  'Bad  In- 
dians !  Cowards !  You  were  afraid  to  wait  till  we 
wanted  your  help !     Go  (jogo)  to  where  snakes  will  lio 


174  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISOX. 

in  your  path ;  where  the  panthers  will  starve  you  by  de- 
vouring the  venison ;  and  where  you  will  be  naked,  and 
suffer  with  the  cold  !  Jogo  !  (go,)  none  but  the  brave  and 
good  Indians  live  here./  I  can  not  think  of  performing 
an  act  that  will  add  to  my  wretchedness.  It  is  hard 
enough  for  me  to  suffer  here,  and  have  good  hunting  here- 
after—  worse,  to  lose  the  whole." 

Upon  this,  Jack  withdrew  his  proposal.  They  went 
on  about  two  miles,  and  then  turned  about  and  came 
home.  Guilty  and  uneasy,  they  lurked  about  Squawky 
Hill  near  a  fortnight,  and  then  went  to  Cattaraugus,  and 
were  gone  six  weeks.  When  they  came  back,  Jack's  wife 
earnestly  requested  him  to  remove  his  family  to  Tona- 
wanda ;  but  he  remonstrated  against  her  project,  and 
utterly  declined  going.  His  wife  and  family,  however,  tired 
of  the  tumult  by  which  they  were  surrounded,  packed  up 
their  effects,  in  spite  of  what  he  could  say,  and  went  off. 
Jack  deliberated  a  short  time  upon  the  proper  course  for 
himself  to  pursue ;  and  finally,  rather  than  leave  his  old 
home,  he  ate  a  large  quantity  of  muskrat  root,  and  died 
in  ten  or  twelve  hours.  His  family,  being  immediately 
notified  of  his  death,  returned  to  attend  the  burial,  and 
are  yet  living  at  Squawky  Hill. 

Nothing  was  ever  done  with  Doctor,  who  continued  to 
live  quietly  at  Squawky  Hill  till  some  time  in  the  year 
1819,  when  he  died  of  consumption. 


i)i:ii-iii:-\\  a-mi<.  }-.', 


OHAPTEB   XIV. 

Mary  |dll  put  of  her  r  i  —  Tlw  lianl.-liijH  of  her  lifi> —  Great 

strength  <>f  constitution  —  Ber    temperance — DoftroctiTi 

of  ardent    spirits  among  the  Senecaa  —  Witchcraft  —  Accusations 

■utions  for  witchcraft  —  Jl.-r  deOOl  ndants. 

l\  the  year  isi<;.  IGoab  Brooks,  Esq.,  of  Bloomfield, 
tario  county,   and  Jellis  Clute,  Esq.,   of  Lelcef 
:n  to  aegociate  with  me  for  the  purchase  <»f  i  part  of 

my  land,  as  it  lay  in  an  unproductive  slate  to  me.  Many 
tacles  presented  themselves  in  the  transaction  of  the 
business.  In  the  firs!  place,  it  was  objected  thai  I  was 
not  a  citizen  of  the  United  States,  and  could  not  legally 
convey  land,  without  a  special  act  of  the  legislature. 
To  surmount  this  difficulty)  Messrs.  Brooks  and  Clute 
procured  a  Bpeoial  act  of  the  legislature  of  this  state  to 
<1,  oonferring  naturalization  on  me.  and  oonfirming 

tie  to   the    land    as    far  as   that  body  could  effect  it. 

then  di  ;  that  tin-  assent  of  the  chiefs  of 

CS    nation    mUSl    he    had   to    the  OOni  eyaiiee,  and 

that  the  proceedings  to  obtain  such  assent  must  be  in 

council,   uinh-r    the    superintendence    of   a    commissioner 

appointed  by  tie-  President  of  the  United  States. 


176  LIFE    OF    MARY   JEMISON. 

Afrer  much  delay  and  vexation  in  ascertaining  what 
was  necessary  to  be  done  to  effect  the  object  in  a  legal 
manner,  and  having  consulted  my  children  and  friends,  in 
the  winter  of  1822-3,  I  agreed  with  Messrs.  Brooks  and 
Clute,  that  if  they  would  get  the  chiefs  of  our  nation, 
and  a  United  States  commissioner  of  Indian  lands,  to 
meet  in  Moscow,  Livingston  county,  X.  Y.,  I  would  sell 
to  them  all  my  right  and  title  to  the  Gardeau  reservation, 
containing  17,927  acres,  with  the  exception  of  a  tract  for 
my  own  benefit,  two  miles  long  and  one  mile  wide,  lying 
on  Genesee  River,  where  I  should  choose  it;  and  also 
reserving  a  lot  I  had  promised  to  give  to  Thomas  Clute, 
as  a  recompense  for  his  faithful  guardianship  over  me  and 
my  property  for  a  long  time. 

The  arrangement  was  agreed  to,  and  the  council  assem- 
bled on  the  third  or  fourth  day  of  September  last,  at  the 
place  appointed,  consisting  of  Major  Carrol,  Judge  Howell, 
and  X.  Gorham,  acting  for  and  in  behalf  of  the  United 
States  government ;  Jasper  Parish,  Indian  agent ;  Horatio 
Jones,  interpreter;  and  a  large  number  of  Seneca  chiefs. 

The  bargain  was  assented  to  unanimously,  and  a  deed 
was  executed  and  delivered  by  me  and  upward  of  twenty 
chiefs,  conveying  all  my  right  and  title  to  the  Gardeau 
reservation,  except  the  reservations  before  mentioned,  to 
Henry  B.  Gibson,  Micah  Brooks,  and  Jellis  Clute,  their 
heirs  and  assigns  forever. 


i)i:n-iii.-\\  a-.mis.  177 

The  tract  which  1  resenred  for  myself  begins  at  the 
center  of  the  Great  Slide;  thenoe  running  west  one  mflej 
thence  north  two  miles;  thenoe  east  about  a  mUe  to  the 
river j   and  thenoe  running  southerly  np  the  river j  and 

bounding  on  the  west  l.ank  to  tin-  place  of  beginn 

In  consideration  of  the  before-mentioned  sale  to  K< 
SOU,   Brooks,   and    (lute,  among    other   things,    they 
bound  themselves,  their  heirs.  .  ..  to  pay  to  nie, 

my   heirs  or  succes-ui>,   three  hundred   dollars   a   year 
forever. 

"When  I  review  my  life,  the  privations  that  I  have  suf- 
fered, the  hardships  I  have  endured,  the  vicissitudes  1 
have  passed!  and  the  complete  revolution  that  I  have 
experienced  in  my  manner  of  living;  when  I  consider  my 
reduction  from  a  civilized  to  a  savage  state,  and  the 
various  steps  by  which  that  process  has  been  effected,  and 
that  my  life  has  been  prolonged,  and  my  health  and  rea- 
son spared,  it  seems  a  miracle  that  I  am  unable  to  account 
for,  and  is  a  tragical  medley  that  I  hope  will  never  be 
repeated.  The  bare  loss  of  liberty  is  but  a  mere  trifle, 
when  compared  with  the  ciroumstanoes  that  necessarily 
attend,  and  are  inseparably  connected  with  it.  It  is  the 
recollection  of  what  we  once  were,  of  the  friends,  the 
home  we  have  left,  and  the  pleasures  that  we  h; 
the  anticipation  of  misery,  the  appearance  of  wretched- 

.  the  anxiety    for  freedom,  the  hope  of  release,  the 

II 


178  LIFE   OF   MARY   JEMISOX. 

devising  of  means  of  escaping,  and  the  vigilance  "with 
which  we  watch  our  keepers,  that  constitute  the  nauseous 
dregs  of  the  bitter  cup  of  slavery.  I  am  sensible,  how- 
ever, that  no  one  can  pass  from  a  state  of  freedom  to  that 
of  slavery,  and  in  the  latter  situation  rest  perfectly  con- 
tented; but  as  every  one  knows  that  great  exertions  of 
the  mind  tend  directly  to  debilitate  the  body,  it  will 
appear  obvious  that  we  ought,  when  confined,  to  exert 
all  our  faculties  to  promote  our  present  comfort,  and  let 
future  days  provide  their  own  sacrifices.  In  regard  to 
ourselves,  just  as  we  feel,  we  are. 

For  the  preservation  of  my  life  to  the  present  time  I 
am  indebted  to  an  excellent  constitution,  with  which  I 
have  been  blessed  in  as  great  a  degree  as  any  other  per- 
son. After  I  arrived  to  years  of  understanding,  the  care 
of  my  own  health  was  one  of  my  principal  studies ;  and 
by  avoiding  exposures  to  wet  and  cold,  by  temperance  in 
eating,  abstaining  from  the  use  of  spirits,  and  shunning 
the  excesses  to  which  I  was  frequently  exposed,  I  effected 
my  object  beyond  what  I  expected.  I  have  never  once 
been  sick  till  within  a  year  or  two,  only  as  I  have  related. 

Spirits  and  tobacco  I  have  never  used,  and  I  have 
never  once  attended  an  Indian  frolic.  When  I  was  taken 
prisoner,  and  for  some  time  after  that,  spirits  were  un- 
known among  the  Indians ;  and  when  they  were  first  intro- 
duced, it  was  in  small  quantities,  and  used  only  by  the 


DEH-HB-WA-3o&  ]79 

Indians;  so  that  it  was  ■  long  time  before  the  It. 
women  began  even  to  taste  it. 

After  the    French    war,   for  I   number  of  years   it  was 
the  practice  of  the  Indians  of  our  tribe  ty  Bend  to  K 

ara  and  get  twoor three  kega  Of  rum  —  in  all  six  or  eight 

gallon*  —  and  hold  a  frolic   as  long  as   it    lasted.      When 
the  rum  was  brought    to    the   town,    all    the    Indians   eol- 

ed\  and  la-fore  a  drop  was  drank,  nave  all  their  kn: 
tomahawks,  gnns,  and  other   instruments   of  war,  to  one 
Indian,  whose  business  it  was  to   bury  them  in   a   private. 
place,    keep   them    coneealed,  and    remain   perfectly  sober 
till    the  frolic  was    ended.      Having    thus   diverted   thein- 

selves,  they  commenced  drinking,  and  continued  their 
frolic  till  every  drop  was  consumed.  If  any  of  them 
became  quarrelsome,  or  got  to  fighting,  those  whr>  were 
Bober  enough  bound  them  upon  the  ground,  where  they 
were  obliged  to  lie  till  they  got  sober,  and  then  were  un- 
:d.  When  the  fumes  of  the  spirits  had  left  the  com- 
pany, the  sober  Indian  returned  to  each  the  instruments 
with  which  they  had  entrusted  him,  and  all  went  home 
Satisfied.  A  frolic  of  that  kind  was  held  but  OBCC  a  \ear, 
and  that  at  the  time  the  Indians  quit  their  hunting,  and 
came  in  with  their  deer-skins. 

In  those  fri.lies  the   women    never   participated.      B 
after  the    Revolutionary  War,   however,   spirits    b. M 
common  in  our  tribe,  and  have  been  used  indiscriminately 


ISO  LIFE    OF   MARY   JE3IISOX. 

by  both  sexes ;  though  there  are  not  so  frequent  instances 
of  intoxication  among  the  squaws  as  among  the  Indians. 

To  the  introduction  and  use  of  that  baneful  article 
which  has  made  such  devastation  in  our  tribes,  and 
threatens  the  extinction  of  our  people,  (the  Indians,)  I 
can  with  the  greatest  propriety  impute  the  whole  of  my 
misfortune  in  losing  my  three  sons.  But  as  I  have  before 
observed,  not  even  the  love  of  life  will  restrain  an  Indian 
from  sipping  the  poison  that  he  knows  will  destroy  him. 
The  voice  of  nature,  the  rebukes  of  reason,  the  advice  of 
parents,  the  expostulations  of  friends,  and  the  numerous 
instances  of  sudden  death,  are  all  insufficient  to  restrain 
an  Indian  who  has  once  experienced  the  exhilarating  and 
inebriating  effects  of  spirits,  from  seeking  his  grave  in 
the  bottom  of  the  bottle. 

My  strength  has  been  great  for  a  woman  of  my  size ; 
otherwise  I  must  long  ago  have  died  under  the  burdens 
which  I  was  obliged  to  carry.  I  learned  to  carry  loads 
on  my  back,  supported  by  a  strap  placed  across  my  fore- 
head, soon  after  my  captivity;  and  continue  to  carry  in 
the  same  way.  Upward  of  thirty  years  ago,  and  with 
the  help  of  my  young  children,  I  backed  all  the  boards 
that  were  used  about  my  house  from  Allen's  mill  at  the 
outlet  of  Silver  Lake,  a  distance  of  five  miles.  I  have 
planted,    hoed,   and    harvested   corn  every  season   but 


DSH-HB-WA-MI8.  181 

one  sin<-«'   i   was  taken   prisoner.      Even   this  pen 
full.  L823,  I  have  busked  my  oorn,  end  becked  it  into  th« 
bouse. 

The  first  DOW  that   I  ever  owned,   I    boughi  of  |  s<juaw 

sometin  •  the  Revolution.     It  bed  been  itolen  firon 

the  enemy.      I  had  owned  it    hut  I  fen  days    when   it    feU 

into  ■  ho].-,  and  almost  died  before  we  oonld  gel  it  out. 

After  this,  the  Bqnew  wanted   to   be   recanted;  hut   .       i 

would  not  give  op  the  cow,  I  gave  her  money  enough  to 

make,  when  added  to  the  sum  which  I  paid  her  at  first, 
thirty-five  dollars.  Cows  were  plenty  0D  the  Ohio,  when 
I  lived  there,  and  of  good  quality. 

p  provisions,  I  have  never  suffered  since  I  caino 
upon  the  flats;  nor  have  I  ever  been  indebted  to  any 
other  hands  than  my  own  for  the  plenty  that  I  have 
shared. 

I  have  never  been  accused  of  many  vices.  Some  of 
my  children  had  lL'ht-brown  hair,  and  tolerably  fair  skin, 
which  UM-d  to  make  some  people  say  that    I    stole   them; 

yet.  a- 1  was  ever  conscious  of  my  own  constancy,  I  never 

jlit  that  any  one  really  believed  that   I  f&|  guilty  of 

adulter}-.    It  wee  believed  for  a  long  time,  by  son 

our  people,  that  I  WM  a  Lrreat  witch;  but  they  were  una- 
ble in  prove  my  guilt,  and  consequently  I  escaped  the, 

certain  doom  of  those  who  are  convicted  uf  that  crime, 


IS2  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

"which,  by  the  Indians,  13  considered  as  heinous  as 
murder. 

The  term  in  the  Seneca  language  meaning  witch  ap- 
plies equally  to  both  sexes.  They  believe  that  there  are 
many  witches,  and  that,  next  to  the  author  of  evil,  they 
are  the  greatest  scourge  to  the  people.  The  term  denotes 
a  person  to  whom  the  evil  deity  has  delegated  power  to 
inflict  diseases,  cause  death,  blast  corn,  bring  bad  weather, 
and,  in  short,  to  cause  almost  any  calamity  to  "which  they 
are  liable.  With  this  impression,  and  believing  that  it  is 
their  actual  duty  to  destroy,  as  far  as  is  in  their  power, 
every  source  of  unhappiness,  it  has  been  a  custom  among 
them  from  time  immemorial,  to  destroy  every  one  that 
they  could  convict  of  so  heinous  a  crime  j  and  in  fact 
there  is  no  reprieve  from  the  sentence. 

Executions  for  witchcraft  are  not  an  uncommon  occur- 
rence. More  or  less,  charged  with  being  witches,  have 
been  executed  in  almost  every  year  I  have  lived  on  the 
Genesee.  Many,  on  being  suspected,  made  their  escape; 
while  others,  before  they  were  aware  of  being  implicated, 
have  been  apprehended  and  brought  to  trial.  A  number 
of  years  ago,  an  Indian  chased  a  squaw,  near  Little 
Beard's  Town,  and  caught  her ;  but  on  account  of  her 
great  strength  she  got  away.  The  Indian,  vexed  and 
disappointed,  went  home,  and  the  next  day  reported  that 


DEH-HB-WA-MI8.  L8S 

SEW  hef  have   lire    in    her  month,  and   that    she  w 

witch.  Upon  this  she  was  apprehended  tad  killed  Imme- 
diately. She  waa  Bigtree's  cousin.  I  was  present  at 
that  execution,  and  also  saw  another  who  hail  been  Con- 
victed of  being  a  Witch,  killed,  and  thrOWD   into  the  riser. 

Tims,  from  the  most  trifling  causae,  thousands  have  l«»t 
their  lives  through  the  superstitions  fanaticism  of  the 
pagan  Indians,  for  they  will  not  "anffer  a  witch  t.»  live." 
I  have  been  the  mother  of  eight  children; — three  of 
whom  are  DOW  living, — and  1  have  at  this  time  thirty-nine 
grand-children,  and  fourteen  great-grand-children  all 
living  in  the   neighborhood  of  G  River,  and  at 

Buffalo. 

I  live  in  my  own  house,  and  on  my  own  land,  with  my 
youngest  daughter,  Polly,  who  is  married  to  George  Chon- 
go,  and  has  three  children. 

My  daughter  Nancy,  who  is  married  to  Billy  Green, 
lives  about  eighty  rods  south  of  my  house,  and  ha-  sewn 
children. 

My  other  daughter,  Betsey,  is  married  to  John  Green, 
has  seven  children,  and  resides  eighty  rods  north  of  my 
hou 

Thus  situated  in  the  midst  of  my  children,  I  expect  I 
shall  soon  leave  the  world,  and   make  room   for  the   rising 

generation.     1  feel  the  weight  of  years  with  which  1  am 

loaded,  and  urn  sensible  of  my  daily  failure,  in  seeing, 


184  ^IFE    OF   MAEY   JEMISON. 

hearing,  and  strength;  but  my  only  anxiety  is  for  nay 
family.  If  my  family  will  live  happily,  and  I  can  be  ex- 
empted from  trouble  while  I  have  to  stay,  I  feel  as 
though  I  could  lay  down  in  peace,  a  life  that  has  been 
checked  in  almost  every  hour,  with  troubles  of  a  deeper 
dye  than  are  commonly  experienced  by  mortals. 


DEH-HB-WA-MI&  1^5 


OHAPTEB  XV* 

Life  of  EB-ok-a-toO,  half-brother  of  Farnn-rV  Brother — Naturally  cru- 
el—  Inroad  upon  the  Gatawbai  in  Tennessee  —  PrOtPl  ;it   B 

dock'i  .hfcit  —  Battle  of  Fort  EVeeland —  Kxi..-.iiti.ni  to  Oheny 

\  alley — His  barbarity — Battle  Bt  Upper  Sandusky — Colonel 
Crawford  taken,  and  boned  at  the  stake  —  Dr.  KnightV  escape  — 
Ili-ok-a-too  leadn  a  war-party  against  the  Cherokeefl —  >aal 

appearance  —  Dies  of  old  l| 

Hiokatoo  was  born  on  tlu-  banks  of  the  Susquehanna, 

in  the  year  1708,  in  one  of  the  tribes  of  the  Senecas 
which  inhabited  thai  region  at  the  time  of  his  birth.    He 

WU  OWI  OOTUrin  to  Farmer's  Brother,  a  chief  who  had 
been  justly  celebrated  for  his  worth.   Their  mothers  were 
sisters,  and  it  was  through  tin-  influence  of  Farmer's  Bro 
tlier  that  I  became  Hiokatoo'a  wife. 

In  early  life  In-  showed  siems  of  thirst  for  blond,  by  at 

tending  only  to  the  art  of  war,  in  the  use  of  the  toma- 
hawk ami  scalping-knife,  ami  in  practicing  orueltiee  apon 

everything  that  chanced  to  fall  into  his  hands  which  WM 
susceptible  <»f  pain.  In  that  way  he  learned  to  use  bis 
implements  of   war   effectually,   and    at    the  same   time 

*  This  chapter  was  added  by  Ebenezer  Mix 

12  H* 


186  LIFE    OF    MARY    JEMISON. 

blunted  all  those  finer  feelings  and  tender  sympathies  that 
are  naturally  excited  by  hearing  or  seeing  a  fellow-being 
in  distress.  He  could  inflict  the  most  excruciating  tor- 
tures upon  his  enemies,  and  prided  himself  upon  his  forti- 
tude in  having  performed  the  most  barbarous  ceremonies 
and  tortures  without  the  least  degree  of  pity  or  remorse. 
Thus  qualified,  when  very  young  he  was  initiated  into 
scenes  of  carnage  by  being  engaged  in  the  wars  that  pre- 
vailed among  the  Indian  tribes. 

When  he  was  a  young  man,  there  lived  in  the  same 
tribe  with  him  an  old  Indian  warrior  who  was  a  great 
counselor,  by  the  name  of  Buck-in-je-hil-lish.  Buekinje- 
hillish  having,  with  great  fatigue,  attended  the  council 
when  it  was  deliberating  upon  war,  declared  that  none 
but  the  ignorant  made  war,  and  that  the  wise  men  and 
the  warriors  had  to  do  the  fighting.  This  speech  exas- 
perated his  countrymen  to  such  a  degree  that  he  was  ap- 
prehended and  tried  for  being  a  witch,  on  the  account  of 
his  having  lived  to  so  advanced  an  age ;  and  because  he 
could  not  show  some  reason  why  he  had  not  died  before, 
he  was  sentenced  to  be  tomahawked  by  a  boy  on  the 
spot,  which  was  accordingly  done. 

In  1731,  Hiokatoo  was  appointed  a  runner,  to  assist  in 
collecting  an  army  to  go  against  the  Catawbas,  Chero- 
kees,  and  other  southern  Indians.  A  large  army  was  col- 
lected, and  after  a  long  and  fatiguing  march,  met  its  ene- 


DEH-HE-WA-MI&  1-7 

mios  in  what  was  then  called  tin-  "low,  dark,  and  bloody 

lands,"  near  tin*  month  of  Bed  Etiyer,  in  what  is  now  called 
the  state  <.f  Tennessee,  at  or  near  the  site  of  the  present  vil- 
of  Olarksville,  in  tin-  county  of  Montgomery.  The 
Oatawbas  and  their  assoeiates  had,  by  some  monnn,  been 
apprised  of  their1  approach,  and  lay  in  ambnsh  to  take 
them  at  once,  when  they  should  come  within  their  reach, 
and  destroy  the  whole  army.  The  northern  Indians, with 
their  nsnal  sagacity,  discovered  the  situation  of  their  • 
mies,  rushed  upon  the  ambuscade,  and  massacred  twelve 

hundred  on  the  spot.  The  1  tattle  Continued  f<»r  two  days 
and  two  nights  with  the  utmost  severity,  in  which  the 
northern  Indians  were  victorious,  and  so  far  succeeded  in 
destroying  the  Oatawbas  that  they  at  that  time  ceased  to 
he  a  nation.  The  victors  suffered  an  immense  loss  in 
killed:  but  gained  the  hunting-ground,  which  was  their 
grand  object,  though  the  Gherokees  would  not  giye  it  up 
in  a  treaty,  or  consent  to  make  peace.  Bows  and  am 
at  that  time  wen-  generally  used  as  implements  of  Indian 

warfare,  although  a  few  gUUS  had  been  introduced. 

From  that  time  he  was  engaged  in  a  number  of  battles, 

in  which,  SS  in  the  Qatawba  and  Cherokee  wars,  Indians 
only  were  engaged,  and  made  fighting  his  business  till  the 
commencement  of  the  French  war.  In  th-.se  battles  he 
a  number  of  Indians  prisoners,  whom  he  killed  by 
tying   them  to   trees,  and  setting  small   Indian  boys  to 


188  LIFE    OF    MART   J  EM  I  SON. 

shooting  at  them  with  arrows,  till  death  finished  the  mis- 
ery of  the  sufferers ;  a  process  that  frequently  took  two 
days  for  completion. 

During  the  French  war  he  was  in  every  battle  that 
was  fought  on  the  Susquehanna  and  Ohio  rivers;  and 
was  so  fortunate  as  never  to  have  been  taken  prisoner. 

At  Braddock's  defeat,  he  took  two  white  prisoners,  and 
burnt  them  alive  in  a  fire  of  his  own  kindling. 

In  1777,  he  was  in  the  battle  at  Fort  Freeland,  in 
Northumberland  county,  Pa.  The  fort  contained  a  great 
number  of  women  and  children,  and  was  defended  only 
by  a  small  garrison.  The  force  that  went  against  it  con- 
sisted of  one  hundred  British  regulars,  commanded  by  a 
Colonel  McDonald,  and  three  hundred  Indians  under 
Hiokatoo.  After  a  short  but  bloody  engagement,  the 
fort  was  surrendered.  The  women  and  children  were 
sent  under  an  escort  to  the  next  fort  below,  and  the  men 
and  boys  taken  off  by  a  party  of  British  to  the  general 
Indian  encampment.  As  soon  as  the  fort  had  capitulat- 
ed and  the  firing  had  ceased,  Hiokatoo,  with  the  help  of  a 
few  Indians,  tomahawked  every  wounded  American,  while 
earnestly  begging  with  uplifted  hands  for  quarter. 

The  massacre  was  but  just  finished  when  Captains 
Dougherty  and  Boon  arrived-  with  a  reinforcement  to 
assist  the  garrison.  On  their  arriving  in  sight  of  the 
fort,  they  saw  that  it  had  surrendered,  and  that  an  Indian 


i>i:ii-m->\\  189 

holding  the  flag.    This  bo  much  inflan       l 
Dougherty  that  he  left  hla  command,  stepped  forwards 

and  shot  the   Indian  at  the   first    tire     Another  took  the 

ami  had  no  sooner  got  it  erected  than  Dougherty 
dropped  him  u  he  had  the  Bret  A  third  presumed  t<>  hold 
it.  wh»>  was  also  slmi  down  by  Dotigherty.  Hiokatoo, 
sperated  at  the  Bight  of  such  bravery,  sallied  out  with 
a  party  of  his  [ndians,  and  killed  Oapt's  Dougherty,  Boon, 
and  fourteen  men,  at  t ho  first  lire.  The  remainder  <>f 
the  two  companies  escaped  by  taking  to  flight,  and  - 

arrived  at  the  fori  which  they  had  left  lint  a  few  honrshefi.ro. 
In  an  expedition  that  went  out  against  ( 'lurry  Valley 
and  the  neighboring  settlements, Captain  David,  a  Mohawk 
Indian,  was  first,  and  Biokatoo  the  second  in  command. 
The  fon  Isted  of  several  hundred  Indians,  who  were 

determined  on  mischief,  and  the  destruction  of  the  wl 
A    continued    series   of    wanton    barbarity    characterized 
their  career,  for  they  plundered  and  burned  every  thing 

that   came   in  their  way.  and   killed   a  number  of  per- 

among  whom  were  a  number  of  infants,  whom  Hiol. 
butchered  <»r  dashed  upon  the  stones  with  his  own  hands, 
the  instances  which  have  been  mentioned,  he  was 
in  a  number  of  parties  daring  the  Revolutionary  War, 
where  in*  ever  acted  a  conspicuous  part. 

The  Indians,  having  removed  the  seal  of  their  de] 
dations  and  war  to  the  frontiers  of  Pennsylvania,  Ohio, 


190  LIFE   OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

Kentucky,  and  the  neighboring  territories,  assembled  a 
large  force  at  Upper  Sandusky,  their  place  of  general 
rendezvous,  from  whence  they  went  out  to  the  various 
places  which  they  designed  to  sacrifice. 

Tired  of  the  desolating  scenes  that  were  so  often  wit- 
nessed, and  feeling  a  confidence  that  the  savages  might 
be  subdued,  and  an  end  put  to  their  crimes,  the  American 
government  raised  a  regiment,  consisting  of  three  hun- 
dred volunteers,  for  the  purpose  of  dislodging  them  from 
their  cantonment,  and  preventing  further  barbarities.  Col- 
onel William  Crawford,  and  Lieutenant-Colonel  David 
Williamson  —  men  who  had  been  thoroughly  tried  and 
approved  —  were  commissioned  by  General  Washington 
to  take  the  command  of  a  service  that  seemed  all -important 
to  the  welfare  of  the  country.  In  the  month  of  July, 
1782,  well  armed,  and  provided  with  a  sufficient  quantity 
of  provisions,  this  regiment  made  an  expeditious  march 
through  the  wilderness  to  Upper  Sandusky,  where,  as 
had  been  anticipated  they  found  the  Indians  assembled 
in  full  force  at  their  encampment,  prepared  to  receive 
an  attack. 

As  Colonel  Crawford  and  his  brave  men  advanced,  and 
when  they  had  got  within  a  short  distance  of  the  town, 
they  were  met  by  a  white  man,  with  a  flag  of  truce  from 
the  Indians,  who  proposed  to  Colonel  Crawford,  that,  if 
he  would  surrender  himself  and  his  men  to  the  Indians, 


DEH-HB-WA-MIS.  1  '1 

their  live-  should   be  Spared:   hut    tliat,   if  tlnv 

in  their  undertaking,  and  attacked  the  town,  they  should 
all  l>c  massacred  to  a  man. 
Crawford,  while  hearing  the  proposition,  attenth 

surveyed  its  hearer,  and  recognized   in  his  features  01 

his  former  schoolmates  and  companions,  with  whom  he 
was  perfectly  acquainted,  by  the  oame  of  Simon  Gorty. 
Gnrty,  hut  a  shor(  time  before  this,  had  been  a  soldier  in 
the  American  army,  in  the  same  regiment  with  Crawford  ; 

hut  en  the  account  of  his  cot  baying  received  the  promo- 
tion that  he  expected,  he  became  disaffected,  swore  an 
eternal  war  with  his  countrymen,  tied  to  the  Indians,  and 

joined  them,  as  a  If  ader  well  qualified  to  conduct  them  to 
where  they  could  satiate  their  thirst  lor  blood,  upon  the 
innocent,  unoffending  and  defenseless  settlers.  Crawford 
stt-rnly  inquired  of  the  traitor  if  his  name  was  not  Simon 
Gurty  ;  and  being  answered  in  the  affirmative,  lie  informed 
him  that  he  despised  the  offer  which  he  had  made;  and 
that  in-  should  not  surrender  his  army,  unless  he  should 
be  compelled  to  do  so  by  a  superior  force 

Gurty  returned,  and  Crawford  immediately  commenced 
an  engagement  that  lasted  till  night,  without  the  ap] 
sues  of  victory  en  either  side  ;  when  the  firing  ceased,  and 

the  OOfnbatantfl  On  both  sides  retired  to  take  refreshment, 
and  to  rest  through  the  night.  Crawford  encamped  in  the 
woods  near  half  a  mile  from  the  town,  where,  after  the 


192  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

sentinels  were  placed,  and  each  had  taken  his  ration,  they 
slept  on  their  arms,  that  they  might  be  instantly  ready  in 
case  they  should  be  attacked.  The  stillness  of  death 
hovered  over  the  little  army,  and  sleep  relieved  the  whole, 
except  the  wakeful  sentinels,  who  vigilantly  attended  to 
their  duty.  But  what  was  their  surprise  when  they  found, 
late  in  the  night,  that  they  were  surrounded  by  the  In- 
dians on  every  side,  except  a  narrow  space  between  them 
and  the  town.  Every  man  was  under  arms,  and  the  offi- 
cers instantly  consulted  each  other  on  the  best  method 
of  escaping  ;  for  they  saw  that  to  fight  would  be  useless, 
and  that  to  surrender  would  be  death. 

Crawford  proposed  to  retreat  through  the  ranks  of  the 
enemy  in  an  opposite  direction  from  the  town,  as  being  the 
most  sure  course  to  take.  Lieutenant  Colonel  Williamson 
advised  to  march  directly  through  the  town,  where  there 
appeared  to  be  no  Indians,  as  the  fires  were  yet  burning. 

There  was  no  time  or  place  for  debates.  Colonel  Craw- 
ford, with  sixty  followers,  retreated  on  the  route  that  he 
had  proposed,  by  attempting  to  rush  through  the  enemy ; 
but  they  had  no  sooner  got  among  the  Indians  than  every 
man  was  killed  or  taken  prisoner.  Among  the  prisoners 
were  Colonel  Crawford,  and  Doctor  Knight,  surgeon  of 
the  regiment.  Lieutenant-Colonel  Williamson,  with  the 
remainder  of  the  regiment,  together  with  the  wounded, 
set  out  at  the  same  time  that  Crawford  did,  went  through 


m:u-iii:-\v.\-mi<.  1  13 

tin*  town  Without   losing  a  man,  and,  l>y  tin-  help 
guides,  arrived  at  their  homes  in  safety. 
The  next  day  after  the  i  nent,  the  J  mil. 

d  of  all  their  prisoners  to  the  different  tribes,  • 

»        >nel  Crawford  and   DootOX  Knight  ;   hut   those   unfur- 

tunate  nun  wen  reserved  for  a  more  cruel  destiny.    A 

council  was   immediately   held   en   Saiulu>k\    Plains,  i 
ing  of  all  the  chiefs  and  warriors,  ranged  in  their 

tomery   order,    in    a   circular   form;    and    Crawford   and 
_ lit  were  brought   forward  and  seated  in  the  center  of 
the  circle. 

The  council  being  opened,  the  chiefs  began  to  examine 
Crawford  on  various  subjects  relative  to  the  war.  At 
length  they  inquired  who  conducted  the  military  opera  - 
-  of  the  American  army  on  the  (  >hio  and  Susquehanna 
rivers  during  the  year  before  ;  and  who  had  led  that  army 
against  them  with  so  much  skill,  and  such  uniform  - 
Crawford,  very  honestly,  and  without  suspecting  any  harm 
from  his  reply,  promptly  answered  that  he  was  the  man 
who  had  led  his  countrymen  to  victory,  who  had  driven 
enemy  from  the  settlements,  and  by  that  means  had 
proeured  a  great  of  happiness  to  many  of  hifl  fcllow- 

citiz*  :.-.      Upon  hearing  this,  a  chief,  who   had    lo>t  a 
the  yen  before,  in  a  battle  where  Colonel  Crawford  OOBh 
manded,  left  his  station  in  the  council,  stepped  \>>  (raw- 


194  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISOX. 

ford,  blacked  his  face,  and  at  the  same  time  told  him  that 
the  next  day  he  should  be  burned. 

The  council  was  immediately  dissolved  on  its  hearing 
the  sentence  from  the  chief,  and  the  prisoners  were  taken 
off  the  ground,  and  kept  in  custody  through  the  night. 
Crawford  now  viewed  his  fate  as  sealed ;  and,  despairing 
of  ever  returning  to  his  home  or  his  country,  only  dreaded 
the  tediousness  of  death,  as  commonly  inflicted  by  the 
savages,  and  earnestly  hoped  that  he  might  be  dispatched 
at  a  single  blow. 

Early  the  next  morning  the  Indians  assembled  at  the 
place  of  execution,  and  Crawford  was  led  to  the  post  — 
the  goal  of  savage  torture,  to  which  he  was  fastened. 
The  post  was  a  stick  of  timber,  placed  firmly  in  the 
ground,  having  an  arm  framed  in  at  the  top,  and  extend- 
ing some  six  or  eight  feet  from  it,  like  the  arm  of  a  sign- 
post. A  pile  of  wood,  containing  about  two  cords,  lay 
about  two  feet  from  the  place  where  he  stood;  which  he 
was  informed  was  to  be  kindled  into  a  fire  that  would 
burn  him  alive,  as  many  had  been  burned  on  the  same 
spot,  who  had  been  much  less  deserving  than  himself. 

Gurty  stood  and  composedly  looked  on  the  prepara- 
tions that  were  making  for  the  funeral  of  one  of  his  for- 
mer playmates,  a  hero  by  whose  side  be  had  fought ;  of  a 
man  whose  valor  had  won  laurels  which,  if  he  could  have 
returned,  would  have  been  strewed  upon  his  grave  by  his 


.i-m:-\\A-Mi<. 

grateful  countrymen.     Dreading  the  igonythal  he 

'■"lit  to  feel,  l  imenl  which 

hit  peri  could   Buggest,   to   prevail 

i  liiui  at    any  price,  and  deliver  liiiu. 
in    his    power,    from    sa\  i;d    their    torn;, 

(iurty  heard   liis  prayen  and  expostulation*,  and  saw  his 

■s  with  indifference;  and  finally  told  the  forsaken  vic- 
tim that  he  would  not  procure  him  a  moment'a  respite, 

nor  atTord  him  the  most  trifling  ice. 

The  OOlonel   was  then  bound,  stripped  naked,  and  tied 
by  hlfl  v  the  arm  which  extended  horizontally  from 

the  post,  in  such  a  manner  that  his  arms  were  extei 
over  his  head,  with  his  |  |  Btandingupon  the  ground. 

This  being  done,  the  sava.Lre>  placed  the  wood  in  a  circle 
around  him,  at  the  distance  of  a  few  feet,  in  order  that 
hi-  misery  mighl  he  protracted  to  the  greatest  length, 
then  kindled  it  in  a  number  of  places  at  the  same  time. 
The  flames  arose,  and  the  scorching  heat  became  a!:. 
Insupportable.  Again  he  prayed  to  Gurty,  in  all  the  an- 
guish of  hifl  torment,  to  rescue  him  from  the  fire,  or  shoot 

him  dead   QpOfl  the  spot      A  demoniac  smile   suffused  the 
noe  of   (iurty,  while    he    calmly   replied    to    the 
dying  suppliant,  that  lie  had  no  pity  lor  his  Buffering; 
that  he  was  then  satisfying  that  spirit  of  rev(  hich 

for  a  long  time  lie  had  hoped  to  have  an  opportunity  to 
wreak  upon  him.    Nature  being  almost  exhausted  froa 


196  LIFE    OF    MARY   JEMISOX. 

the  intensity  of  the  heat,  he  settled  down  a  little,  when 
a  squaw  threw  coals  of  fire  and  embers  upon  him,  which 
made  him  groan  most  piteously.  while  the  whole  camp 
rung  with  exultation.  During  the  execution,  they  mani- 
fested all  the  ecstasy  of  a  complete  triumph.  Poor  Craw- 
ford soon  died,  and  was  entirely  consumed. 

Thus  ended  the  life  of  a  patriot  and  hero,  who  had  been 
an  intimate  with  General  Washington,  and  who  shared, 
in  an  eminent  degree,  the  confidence  of  that  great,  good 
man,  to  whom,  in  the  time  of  Bevolutionary  perils,  the 
sons  of  legitimate  freedom  looked  with,  a  degree  of  faith  in 
his  mental  resources  unequaled  in  the  history  of  the  world. 

That  tragedy  being  ended,  Doctor  Knight  was  informed 
that  on  the  next  day  he  should  be  burned,  in  the  same 
manner  that  his  comrade  Crawford  had  been,  at  Lower 
Sandusky.  Hiokatoo,  who  had  been  a  leading  chief  in  the 
battle  with,  and  in  the  execution  of  Crawford,  painted 
Doctor  Knight's  face  black,  and  then  bound  him,  and  gave 
him  up  to  two  able-bodied  Indians  to  conduct  to  the  place 
of  execution. 

They  set  off  with  him  immediately,  and  traveled  till 
toward  evening,  when  they  halted  to  encamp  till  morning. 
The  afternoon  had  been  very  rainy,  and  the  storm  still 
continued,  which  rendered  it  very  difficult  for  the  Indians 
to  kindle  a  fire.  Knight,  observing  the  difficulty  under 
which  they  labored,  made  them  to  understand,  by  signs, 


hi  H-iII.-W.\-.MlS.  l'.»7 

tliat  if  they  would  unbind  him,  In*  would  assist  them. 
They  accordingly  unloosed  him,  and  be  boob  bu< 
in  making  a  fire  by  the  application  of  Borne  drj  >tufT, 
which,  at  considerable  trouble,  and  displaying  much  u 
nuity,  he  procured.  While  the  Indians  wen  warming 
themselves,  the  Doctor  continued  to  gather  wood  to  last 
through  the  night ;  and  in  doing  iliis  he  found  a  club, 
which  he  placed  in  a  situation  whence  he  could  take  it 
veniently,  win-never  an  opportunity  should  present 
itself  in  which  he  could  use  it  effectually.  The  Indians 
continued  wanning,  till  at  length  the  Doctor  saw  thai 
they  had  placed  themselves  in  a  favorable  position  for  the 
Dution  of  his  design,  when,  stimulated  by  the  love  of 
life,  he  cautiously  took  bis  olub,  and,  at  two  Mows,  kna 
them  both  down.  Determined  to  finish  the  work  of  death 
which  he  had  so  well  begun,  he  drew  one  of  their  BCalp- 
ing-knives,  with  which  he  beheaded  and  scalped  them 
both.  He  then  took  a  rifle,  tomahawk,  and  some  ammu- 
nition, and  directed  his  course  for  home,  where  he  arrived 
without  having  experienced  any  difficulty  on  his  journey. 
The  next  morning  the  Indians  took  the  track  of  their 
victim  and  his  attendants,  to  go  to  Lower  Sandusky, 
there  execute  the  sentence  which  they  had  pronounced 
upon  him.  But  what  was  their  surprise  and  disappoint- 
ment, when  they  arrived  at  the  place  of  encampment, 
i 
when  they  found  their  trusty  friends  scalped  and  decapi- 


198  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

tated,  and  that  their  prisoner  had  made  his  escape.  Cha- 
grined beyond  measure,  they  immediately  separated,  and 
■went  in  every  direction  in  pursuit  of  their  prey  ;  but  after 
having  spent  a  number  of  days  unsuccessfully,  they  gave 
up  the  chase,  and  retired  to  their  encampment. 

In  the  time  of  the  French  war,  in  an  engagement  vrhich 
took  place  on  the  Ohio  River,  Hiokatoo  took  a  British 
colonel,  by  the  name  of  Simon  Canton,  whom  he  carried 
to  the  Indian  encampment.  A  council  was  held,  and  the 
colonel  was  sentenced  to  suffer  death,  by  being  tiec>on  a 
wild  colt,  with  his  face  toward  its  tail,  and  then  having 
the  colt  turned  loose,'  to  run  where  it  pleased.  He  was 
accordingly  tied  on,  and  the  colt  let  loose,  agreeable  to 
the  sentence.  The  colt  ran  two  clays,  and  then  returned 
with  its  rider  yet  alive.  The  Indians,  thinking  that  he 
would  never  die  in  that  way,  took  him  off,  and  made  him 
run  the  gauntlet  three  times  ;  but  in  the  last  race  a  squaw 
knocked  him  down,  and  he  was  supposed  to  have  been 
dead.  He,  however,  recovered,  and  was  sold  for  fifty 
dollars  to  a  Frenchman,  who  sent  him  as  a  prisoner  to 
Detroit.  On  the  return  of  the  Frenchman  to  Detroit,  the 
colonel  besought  him  either  to  ransom  him  or  set  him  at 
liberty,  with  so  much  warmth,  and  promised  with  so  much 
solemnity  to  reward  him  as  one  of  the  best  of  benefactors, 
if  he  would  let  him  go,  that  the  Frenchman  took  his 
word,  and  sent  him  home  to  his  family.     The  colonel 


DEH-HK-WA-MIS.  199 

remembered  his  promise,  and  in  i  short  r.  I  Mi 

deliverer  one  hundred  end  fifty  dollan  as  a  reward  for 
ity, 

Binoe  the  oommenoemenl  of  the  Revolutionary  War, 
Hiokatoo  has  been  In  seventeen  campaigns,  four  of  which 
•  in  the  Cherokee  war.  Be  was  so  great  en  enemy  to 
the  Cherokeee,  and  bo  fully  determined  apon  their  Bubju- 
gation,  that  on  hid  march  to  their  oountry,  be  raised  his 
own  army  for  those  four  campaigns,  and  commanded  it ; 
and  also  superintended  its  subsistence.  In  one  of  thoee 
campaigns,  which  continued  two  whole  years  without  inter- 
mission, he  attacked  his  enemies  on  the  Mobile,  drove 
them  to  the  country  of  the  Creek  nation,  where  be  con- 
tinned  to  harass  them,  till,  being  tired  of  the  war,  he  re- 
turned to  his  family.  He  brought  home  a  great  Dumber 
Of  BOalpS,  which  he  had  taken  from  the  enemy,  and  ever 
.  d  to   |  an   anconquerable   determination  that 

the  Che:  llOUld   he  utterly  destroyed.     Toward  the 

6  <f  his  las!  fighting  in  that  country,  he  took  two 
squaws,  whom  he  sold  on  his  way  home,  for  money  to 
defray  the  expense  of  his  journey. 

Biokatoo  was  about  six  feet  four  or  five  inches  high, 

6   honed,   and   rather   inclined   to   leanness.      Be  was 

Very  stout  and  active,  for  a  man  of  his  size.      It  was  said, 

by  himself  and  others,  that  he  had  never  found  an  Indian 

who  could  keep  up  with  him  on  a   race,  or  throw  him  at 


200  LIFE    OF    MARY    JEMISOX. 

wrestling.  His  eye  was  quick  and  penetrating;  and  his 
voice  was  of  that  thrilling  and  powerful  kind,  which, 
among  Indians,  always  commands  attention.  His  health 
was  uniformly  good.  He  was  never  confined  by  sickness, 
till  he  was  attacked  with  consumption,  four  years  before 
his  death ;  and  although  he  had,  from  his  earliest  days, 
been  inured  to  almost  constant  fatigue,  and  exposed  to 
the  inclemency  of  the  weather  in  the  open  air,  he  seemed 
to  lose  the  vigor  of  the  prime  of  life  only  by  the  natural 
decay  occasioned  by  old  age. 


DEII-HE-Wl-MSS.  201 


CHAFFER  XVI. 

Ebenczor  Allen  —  The  belt  <>f  wampum  —  Be  liv. 

[OftW — Takrti   by  the   Indians — K-<apr9  ami   sc< 
himself — Fed    by    Mary  —  Tak.n    ftgBin,    tried,    md    acquitted — 

Builds  a  great  mill  el  Boch(  iter 

moves  to  ABen'i  ereek  —  Harriet  a  third  wife —  Bomorei  to  Cana- 
da with  tWO  wivt-s  —  A  the  first  —  His  death. 

mbtimh  near  the  close  of  the  Revolutionary  War,  a 

white  man,  by  the  nam.'   of  Ebenezer  Allen,  loft   his 

pie, in  the  state  of  Pennsylvania,  on  account  of  some 

Section    toward   his   countrymen,  and  came  to   the 

Genesee  River  to  reside  with  the  Indians.     He  tarried  at 

i   a  few   days,  and  came   uj>  to  (Jardeau,  where   I 

resided.     He  was,  apparently,  without  any  business 

that  would  support  him;  but  he  booh  became  acquainted 

with  my  son  Thomas,  with  whom  he  hunted  for  ■  long 

time,  and  made  his  In. me  with  him  at  my  DOUSe,      Winter 

can*  ntinued  his  stay.* 

When   Allen   came   to   my  house,  I   had   a   white   man 

.     ;i  was  no  hero,  but,  rat' 

:   cruelty  and  I 
gey"  — [Tcrkkb's  Histoby  or  thk  Holland  Pc  rouse,  p.  I 
13  1 


202  LIFF    OF    MARY   JEMISOX. 

living  on  my  land,  who  had  a  Xanticoke  squaw  for  his 
wife,  with  whom  he  had  lived  very  peaceably;  for  he  was 
a  moderate  man  commonly,  and  she  was  a  kind,  gentle, 
cunning  creature.  It  so  happened  that  he  had  no  hay  for 
his  cattle ;  so  that  in  the  winter  he  was  obliged  to  drive 
them  every  day  perhaps  a  mile  from  his  house,  to  let 
them  feed  on  the  rushes,  which  in  those  days  were  so  nu- 
merous as  to  nearly  cover  the  ground. 

Allen,  having  frequently  seen  the  squaw  in  the  fall,  took 
the  opportunity  when  her  husband  was  absent  with  his 
cows,  daily  to  make  her  a  visit ;  and  in  return  for  his 
kindnesses  she  made  and  gave  him  a  red  cap,  finished 
and  decorated  in  the  highest  Indian  style. 

The  husband  had  for  some  considerable  length  of  time  felt 
a  degree  of  jealousy  that  Allen  was  trespassing  upon  his 
rights,  with  the  consent  of  his  squaw ;  but  when  he  saw 
Allen  dressed  in  so  fine  an  Indian  cap,  and  found  that  his 
dear  Xanticoke  had  presented  it  to  him,  his  doubts  all 
left  him,  and  he  became  so  violently  enraged  that  he 
caught  her  by  the  hair  of  her  head,  dragged  her  on  the 
ground  to  my  house,  a  distance  of  forty  rods,  and  threw 
her  in  at  the  door.  Hiokatoo,  my  husband,  exasperated 
at  the  sight  of  so  much  inhumanity,  hastily  took  down 
his  old  tomahawk,  which  for  a  while  had  lain  idle,  shook 
it  over  the  cuckold's  head,  and  bade  him  jogo  (i.  e.  go  off.) 
The  enraged  husband,  well  knowing  that  he  should  feel  a 


DEH-Hi;-W\-MI<. 

blow  if  he  waiicd  to  hear  the  order  repeated,  instantly  re- 
treated, and  went  down  the  river  to  his  cattle.     We  pro- 

ed  the  i •  Nanticoke  woman,  and  gave  her  victuals; 

and  Allen    sympathized  with    her   in    her   misfort ones   till 

Bpring,  when  her  husband  came  to  her,  acknowledged  his 
former  errors,  and  that  he  had  abased  her  without  a  cause, 
promised  a  reformation,  and  she  received  him  with  every 

mark  of  a  renewal  of  her  affection.  They  went  home  lov- 
ingly, and  soon  after  removed  to  Niagara. 

The  same  spring,  Allen  commenced  working  my  flats, 

and  continued  to  labor  there  till  after  the  peace  of  I' 
He  then  went  to  Philadelphia  on  some  business  that  de- 
tained him  but  a  few  days,  and  returned  with  a  horse  and 
some  dry  goods,  which  he  carried  to  a  place  that  is  now 
called  Mount  Morris,  where  he  built  or  bought  a  small 
house. 

The  British  and  Indians  on  the  Niagara  frontier,  dissat- 
isfied with  the  treaty  of  peace,  were  determined,  at  all 
hazards,  to  continue  their  depredations  upon  the  white 
settlements  which  lay  between  them  and  Albany.  They 
actually  made  ready,  and  were  about  setting  out  on  an 
edition  to  that  effect,  when  Allen  (who  by  this  time 
understood  their  system  of  war)  took  a  belt  of  wampum, 

Which   he   had   fraudulently  procured,  and   carried   it  a-   a 

token  of  peace  from  the  Indians  to  the  commander  of  the 

nearest  American  military  post.     The   Indians  w< 


204  LIFE   OF   MARY   JEMISOX. 

answered  by  the  American  officer,  that  the  wampum  was 
cordially  accepted,  and  that  a  continuance  of  peace  was 
ardently  wished  for.  The  Indians,  at  this,  were  chagrined 
and  disappointed  beyond  measure;  but  as  they  held  the 
wampum  to  be  a  sacred  thing,  they  dared  not  go  against 
the  import  of  its  meaning,  and  immediately  buried  the 
hatchet,  as  it  respected  the  people  of  the  United  States, 
and  smoked  the  pipe  of  peace.  They,  however,  resolved 
to  punish  Allen  for  his  officiousness  in  meddling  with 
their  national  affairs,  by  presenting  the  sacred  wampum 
without  their  knowledge  ;  and  went  about  devising  means 
for  his  detection.  A  party  was  accordingly  dispatched 
from  Fort  Niagara  to  apprehend  him ;  with  orders  to  con- 
duct him  to  that  post  for  trial,  or  for  safe  keeping,  till 
such  time  as  his  fate  should  be  determined  upon  in  a 
legal  manner. 

The  party  came  on ;  but  before  it  arrived  at  Gardeau, 
Allen  got  news  of  its  approach.,  and  fled  for  safety,  leav- 
ing the  horse  and  goods  that  he  had  brought  from  Phila- 
delphia an  easy  prey  to  his  enemies.  He  had  not  been 
long  absent  when  they  arrived  at  Gardeau,  where  they 
made  diligent  search  for  him  till  they  were  satisfied  that 
they  could  not  find  him,  and  then  seized  the  effects  which 
he  had  left,  and  returned  to  Niagara.  My  son  Thomas 
went  with  them,  with  Allen's  horse,  and  carried  the  goods. 

Allen,  on  finding  that  his   enemies  had  gone,  came 


DBH-BB-WA-VISi  Mf 

back  to  my  lions.-,  where  be  lived  as  before;  l>ut  af  his 

return  thej  n  notified  at  Niagara,  and  Netties, 

(who  married   Prisoflla   BLamsay,)  with  i  small  part] 

Indians,  came  <>n  to  take  liim.  Be,  however,  l>y  some 
moans  found  iliat  they  were  near,  and  gave  me  bk  bos 

of  money  and  trinkets  to   keep  safely  till  be  railed  for  it, 

and  again  took  to  the  woods.  Netties  oame  on,  drier- 
mined,  at  all  events,  to  take  him  before  he  went  back : 
and,  in  order  to  accomplish  his  design,  he,  with  his  Indians, 
hunted  in  the  day  time,  and  lay  by  at  night  at  my  house? 
and  in  that  way  they  practiced  for  a  number  of  days. 
Allen  watched  the  motions  of  his  pursuers,  ami  every 

night  after  they  had  gone  to  rest,  came  home  and  got 
some  food,  and  then  returned  to  his  retreat.  It  was  in 
tin-  fall,  and  the  weather  was  cold  and  rainy,  so  that  he 
suffered  extremely.  Borne  sights  he  sat  in  my  chamber 
till  nearly  daybreak,  while  his  enemies  were  below;  and 
when  the  time  arrived,  I  assisted  him  to  escape  unnoticed. 
Nettles  at  length  abandoned  the  chase,  went  some,  and 
Allen,  all  in  tatters,  came  in.  By  running  in  the  woods 
his  clothing  had  become  torn  into  rags,  SO  that  he  was  in 
a  snflerin<r  condition,  almost  naked.  HiokatoO  gave  him 
a  blanket,  and  a  piece  of  broadcloth  for  a  pairoi'tru 
Allen  made  DJS  trousers  himself,  and  then  built  a  raft,  on 
which  he  went  down  the  river  tu  his  own  place  at  Mount 
Morris. 


206  LIFE    OF   MART   JEMISON. 

About  that  time  he  married  a  squaw,  whose  name  was 
Sally. 

The  Niagara  people,  finding  that  he  was  at  his  own 
house,  came  and  took  him  by  surprise,  and  carried  him  to 
Niagara.  Fortunately  for  him,  it  so  happened  that  just 
as  they  arrived  at  the  fort,  a  house  took  fire,  and  his  keep- 
ers all  left  him,  to  save  the  building  if  possible.  Allen 
had  supposed  his  doom  to  be  nearly  sealed ;  but,  finding 
himself  at  liberty,  he  took  to  his  heels,  left  his  escort  to 
put  out  the  fire,  and  ran  to  Tonawanda.  There  an  In- 
dian gave  him  some  refreshments,  and  a  good  gun,  with 
which  he  hastened  on  to  Little  Beard's  Town,  where  he 
found  his  squaw.  Not  daring  to  risk  himself  at  that  place, 
for  fear  of  being  given  up,  he  made  her  but  a  short  visit, 
and  came  immediately  to  Gardeau. 

Just  as  he  got  to  the  top  of  the  hill  above  the  Gardeau 
Flats,  he  discovered  a  party  of  British  soldiers  and  In- 
dians in  pursuit  of  him  ;  and,  in  fact,  they  were  so  near 
that  he  was  satisfied  that  they  saw  him,  and  concluded 
that  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  escape.  The  love 
of  liberty,  however,  added  to  his  natural  swiftness,  gave 
him  sufficient  strength  to  make  his  escape  to  his  former 
castle  of  safety.  His  pursuers  came  immediately  to  my 
house,  where  they  expected  to  have  found  him  secreted,  and 
under  my  protection.  They  told  me  where  they  had  seen 
him  but  a  few  moments  before,  and  that  they  were  confi- 


dent   tliat   it  was  within  my  power  to   put    him   into   their 
hllldB.      A<  I  was  perfectly  clear  of  having  had  any  hand 

iii  bii  escape,  I  told  them  plainly  that  I  had  not  Men 
him  since  he  was  taken  to  Niagara,  and  ihat  I  oonld  give 
them  no  Information  at  all  respecting  him.  still  unsatis- 
fied, and  doubting  my  v.  rarity,  they  sdrised  my  Indian 
brother  to  one  his  influence  to  draw  from  me  tin 
of  his  concealment,  which  they  had  an  ides  thai  1  con- 
sidered  of  great  importance,  not  only  to  him,  hut  to  my- 
self. I  persisted  in  my  ignorance  of  his  situation,  and 
finally  they  left  me. 

Altiiongfa  I  had  not  seen  Allen,  I  knew  his  place  of 
security,  and  was  well  aware  that,  if  I  told  them  the  place 
where  he  had  formerly  hid  himself,  they  would  have  no 
difficulty  in  making  him  a  prisoner. 

lie  came  to  my  house  in  the  night,  and  awoke  me  with 
the  greatest  camion,  fearing  that  some  of  his  enemies 
might  lie  watching  to  take  him  at  a  time  when,  and  in  a 
place  where,  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  make  his 
1  got  op,  and  assured  him  that  he  was  then  safe  ; 
l»ut  that  his  enemies  would  return  early  in  the  morning, 
and  search  him  out  if  it  Bhonld  be  possible.    Having  given 

him  BOtne  Victuals,  Whicfa   he   received    thankfully,  I    told 
him  to  go,  hut  to  return  the  next  night  to  a  certain  OOmet 

of  the  fence  near  m\  boose,  where  he  would  find  a  quantity 


208  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISOX. 

of  meal  that  I  would  have  prepared  and  deposited  there 
for  his  use. 

Early  the  next  morning,  Nettles  and  his  company  came 
in  while  I  was  pounding  the  meal  for  Allen,  and  insisted 
upon  my  giving  him  up.  I  again  told  them  that  I  did  not 
know  where  he  was,  and  that  I  could  not,  neither  would 
I,  tell  them  any  thing  about  him.  I  well  knew  that  Alien 
considered  his  life  in  my  hands ;  and  although  it  was  my 
intention  not  to  lie,  I  was  fully  determined  to  keep  his 
situation  a  profound  secret.  They  continued  their  labor, 
and  examined,  as  they  supposed,  every  crevice,  gully, 
tree,  and  hollow  log  in  the  neighboring  woods,  and  at  last 
concluded  that  he  had  left  the  country,  gave  him  up  for 
lost,  and  returned  home. 

At  that  time  Allen  lay  in  a  secret  place  in  the  gulf,  a 
short  distance  above  my  flats,  in  a  hole  that  he  accident- 
ally found  in  a  rock  near  the  river.  At  night  he  came  and 
got  the  meal  at  the  corner  of  the  fence  as  I  had  directed 
him,  and  afterward  lived  in  the  gulf  two  weeks.  Each 
night  he  came  to  the  pasture  and  milked  one  of  my  cows, 
without  any  other  vessel  in  which  to  receive  the  milk  than 
his  hat,  out  of  which  he  drank  it.  I  supplied  him  with 
meal,  but,  fearing  to  build  a  fire,  he  was  obliged  to  eat  it 
raw,  and  wash  it  down  with  the  milk.  Nettles  having 
left  our  neighborhood,  and  Allen  considering  himself  safe, 


DEH-HB-WA-MI& 

left  his  little  cave,  and  came  dohm  ,     I  ■  ■■  ■•■•  him  hit 

Of  money  and  trinkets,  and  he  wt'iit  to  liis  nwn  house  .it 
Mount    M<»rris.      It   WOJ  rally  considered,   by  the  In- 

dians of  our  tribe,  that  Allen  was  an   innocent    man,  and 

that  the  Niagara  people  were  persecuting  him  without  § 
just  cause.     Little  Beard,  then  about  to  go  to  the  i 
ward   on  public   business,  charged   hie    Indians   not  to 
meddle  with   Allen,  but    to    let  him  live   among  them 

I  eably,  and  enjoy  himself  with  his  family  and  property 
it"  he  could.  Having  the  protection  of  the  chief,  he  felt 
himself  safe,  and  let  his  situation  be  known  to  the  whites, 
from  whom  he  suspected  no  harm.  They.  DOW  -\--r.  were 
more  inimical  than  our  Indians,  and  were  easily  bribed 
by  Nettles  to  assist  in  bringing  him  to  ju>ti  ttles 

came  on,  and  the  whites,  as  they  had  agreed,  gave  poor 
Allen  up  to  him.  He  was  bound,  and  carried  to  Niagara, 
where  he  WM  confined  in  prison  through  the  winter.  In 
the  spring  he  was  taken  to  Montreal  or  Quebec  for  trial, 
and  was  honorably  acquitted.    The  crime  for  which  he 

tried   was    for   having   carried    the   wampum    to    the 

icans,  and  thereby  putting  too  sudden  a  BtO] 

their  war. 

in  the  place  of  his  trial   he  went   directly  to   Phila- 
delphia, and  purchased  on  credit  a  boat-load  oi 
which  he  brought  by  water  to  Ooohocton,  where  he  lefl 

them,  and  came  to  Mount  Morris  for  assistance  to  get 

1* 


210  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

them  brought  on.  The  Indians  readily  went  with  horses, 
and  brought  them  to  his  house,  where  he  disposed  of  his 
dry  goods ;  but  not  daring  to  let  the  Indians  begin  to 
drink  strong  liquor,  for  fear  of  the  quarrels  which  would 
naturally  follow,  he  sent  his  spirits  to  my  place,  where 
we  sold  them.  For  his  goods  he  received  ginseng  roots, 
principally,  and  a  few  skins.  Ginseng*  at  that  time  was 
plenty,  and  commanded  a  high  price.  We  prepared  the 
whole  that  he  received  for  the  market,  expecting  that  he 
would  carry  them  to  Philadelphia.  In  that  I  was  disap- 
pointed ;  for,  when  he  had  disposed  of,  and  got  pay  for, 
all  his  goods,  he  took  the  ginseng  and  skins  to  Niagara, 
and  there  sold  them,  and  came  home. 

Tired  of  dealing  in  goods,  he  planted  a  large  field  of 
corn  on  or  near  his  own  land,  attended  to  it  faithfully,  and 
succeeded  in  raising  a  large  crop,  which  he  harvested, 
loaded  into  canoes,  and  carried  down  the  river  to  the 
mouth  of  Allen's  creek,  then  called  by  the  Indians  Gin-is- 
a-ga,  where  he  unloaded  it,  built  him  a  house,  and  lived 
with  his  family. 

The  next  season  he  planted  corn  at  that  place,  and 
built  a  grist  and  saw-mill  on  Genesee  Falls,  now  called 
Rochester. 

At  the  time  Allen  built  the  mills,  he  had  an  old  Ger- 
man living  with  him  by  the  name  of  Andrews,  whom  he 
sent  in  a  canoe  down  the  river  with  his  mill-irons.    Allen 


i>i:n-m:-\\  \-mi<.  21  1 

went  down  at  tlu'  same  time;  but,  before  they  got  to  the 
mills.  Allen  threw  tin-  old  man  overboard,  m  it  \\;>-  then 
generally  believed,  for  he  was  never  wen  01  heard  of 

•ward. 

In  tin-  oonrse  of  the  season  in  which  Allen  built  his 
mills,  he  became  acquainted  with  the  daughter  "fa  white 
man  who  was  moving  to  Niagara.  She  wan  handsome, 
and  Allen  soon  got   into  her  good  gnu  thai   he 

married  and  took  her  home,  to  he  a  joint  partner  with 
Bally,  the  squaw,  whom  she  had  never  heard  of  till  site 
got  heme  and  found  her  in  full  possession;  hut  it  was  too 
la;.- 1>>  retract'  the  hasty  steps  ahe  had  taken,  for  her  lather 
had  left  her  in  the  care  of  a  tender  hushand,  and  gone  Oil. 
She.  however,  found  that  ahe  enjoyed  at  least  an  equal 
half  of  her  hushand's  affections,  and  made  herself  con- 
tented. Her  father's  name  1  have  forgotten,  hut  her's 
Lucy. 

Allen  was  not  contented  with  two  wives,  for  in  a  short 
time  after  he  had  married  Lucy  he  came  ap  to  my  house, 
where  he  found  a  young  woman  who  had  an  old  hushand 
with  her.     They  had    been  on  a  long  journey,  and   called 

at  my  place  mail  and  rest  themselves.     She  tilled 

Allen's  eye.  and  he  accordingly  fixed  open  a  plan  to 

her  into  hifl  possession.  He  praised  his  situation,  enu- 
merated his  advantage!,  and  finally  persuaded  them  to 
go  home  and  tarry  with  him  a  few  da\  I  at  least,  and  par- 


212  LIFE    OF    MARY   JEMISOX. 

take  of  a  part  of  his  comforts.  They  accepted  his  gene- 
rous invitation,  and  went  home  with  him.  But  they  had 
been  there  but  two  or  three  days,  when  Allen  took  the 
old  gentleman  out  to  view  his  flats ;  and  as  they  were 
deliberately  walking  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  pushed  him 
into  the  water.  The  old  man,  almost  strangled,  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  out ;  but  his  fall  and  exertions  had  so 
powerful  an  effect  upon  his  system  that  he  died  in  two  or 
three  days,  and  left  his  young  widow  to  the  protection  of 
his  murderer.  She  lived  with  him  about  one  year,  in  a 
state  of  concubinage,  and  then  left  him. 

How  long  Allen  lived  at  Allen's  creek  I  am  unable  to 
state;  but  soon  after  the  young  widow  left  him,  he  re- 
moved to  his  old  place  at  Mount  Morris,  and  built  a 
house,  where  he  made  Sally  —  his  squaw,  by  whom  he  had 
two  daughters  —  a  slave  to  Lucy,  by  whom  he  had  one 
son;  still, however,  he  considered  Sally  to  be  his  wife.  After 
Allen  came  to  Mount  Morris  at  that  time,  he  married  a 
girl  by  the  name  of  Morilla  Gregory,  whose  father,  at  the 
time,  lived  on  Genesee  Flats.  The  ceremony  being  over, 
he  took  her  home  to  live  in  common  with  his  other  wives ; 
but  his  house  was  too  small  for  his  family  —  for  Sally  and 
Lucy,  conceiving  that  their  lawful  privileges  would  be 
abridged  if  they  received  a  partner,  united  their  strength, 
and  whipped  poor  Morilla  so  cruelly  that  he  was  obliged 
to  keep  her  in  a  small,  Indian  house,  a  short  distance 


i »i :i i-ni:-\\  a-mis.  l'J:> 

from  his  own,  or  lost-  ber  entirely.    aforilla,  1- 1 
Kit  Mount  Morris,  had  tour  children. 
One  of  l£orill&'s  Bisters  lived  with  Allen  abort  a  year 

after  Morilla  was  married,  and  then  quit  him. 

A  short  time  after  they  had  been  living  at  Mount  Mor- 
ris, Allen  prevailed  upon  the  chiefs  to  give  t<»  hi    I 
children  a  tract  of  land  two  miles  s.juaiv,  where  he  then 
resided.    The  chiefs  them  the  land*  but  In*  so  art- 

fully contrived  the  conveyance  that  he  could  apply  it 
to  his  own  use.  and  by  alienating  his  right,  destroy  the 
claim  of  his  children. 

Saving  secured  the  land  in  that  way  to  himself,  he 
sent  his  two  Indian  girle  to  Trenton,  X.  J.,  and  his  white 
son  to  Philadelphia,  for  tin?  purpose  of  giving  each  of 
them  a  respectable  English  education. 

While  his  children  were  at  school,  he  went  to  Phila- 
delphia,  and    sold    his   right    to   the   land,  which   lie  had 
ed  of  the    Indians  fur  his  children,  to  Robert  Morris. 
r  that, he  ><mt  for  his  daughters  to  come  home,  which 

did. 

Havi]  sed  of  the  whole  of  his  property  on  the 

.   he  took  hi      '      ■  white  wives  and  their 

children,  together  with  his  effects,  and   removed   to  l>ela- 

\  Town*  on  the  Etiver  l><-  Trench,  in  Opper  Canada, 

AN 'hen  he  hft     Mount    liorria,   Sally,    his   scpiaw,    inaj 
upon  going  with  him,  and  actually  followed   him,  crying 


214  LIFE    OF   MART   JEMISOX. 

bitterly,  and  praying  for  his  protection,  some  two  or  three 

miles,  till  he  absolutely  bade  her  leave  him,  or  he  would 

punish  her  with   severity.     At  length  finding  her  case 

hopeless,  she  returned  to  the  Indians. 

At  the  great  treaty  in  1797,  one  of  Allen's  daughters 

claimed  the  Mount  Morris  tract,  which  her  father  had  sold 

to  Robert  Morris.     The  claim  was  examined,  and  decided 

against  her,  in  favor  of  Morris'  creditors. 

He  died  at  the  Delaware  Town,  on  the  River  De  Trench, 
in  the  year  1S14  or  1815,  and  left  two  white  widows  and 
one  squaw,  with  a  number  of  children,  to  lament  his  loss. 

By  his  last  will,  he  gave  all  his  property  to  his  last 
wife,  Morilla,  and  her  children,  without  providing  in  the 
least  for  the  support  of  Lucy,  or  any  of  the  other  mem- 
bers of  his  family.  Lucy,  soon  after  his  death,  went  with 
her  children  down  the  Ohio  River,  to  receive  assistance 
from  her  friends. 

In  the  Revolutionary  \Yar,  Allen  was  a  Tory,  and  by 
that  means  became  acquainted  with  our  Indians,  when 
they  were  in  the  neighborhood  of  his  native  place,  deso- 
lating the  settlements  on  the  Susquehanna.  In  those 
predatory  battles  he  joined  them,  and  for  cruelty  was  not 
exceeded  by  his  Indian  comrades. 

At  one  time,  when  he  was  scouting  with  the  Indians, 
he  entered  a  house  very  early  in  the  morning,  where  he 
found  a  man,  his  wife,  and  one  child,  in  bed.     The  man 


m.h-iii:-\\'a-.mi^.  216 

!:tly  sprang  m  the  Boor,  for  the  purpose  of  di 
himself  and  little  family;  but  Allen  dispatched  him  it 
om  blow.  H'  then  cul  off  bit  head,  and  threw  It,  bleed 
Into  the  bad  with  the  terrified  woman;  took  the  little  in- 
fant from  its  mother's  breast,  dashed  its  head  against  the 
Jamb,  ami  left  the  anhappy  widow  and  mother,  t<>  mourn 
alone  ever  her  murdered  family.    It  has  been  said  by 

e,  that,  after  he  had  killed  the  child,  in-  opemd  the 
fire,  and  buried  it  under  the  coals  and  embers;  but  of 
that  I  am  n«»i  certain.  1  have  often  beard  him  speak  of 
that   transaction  with    I  degree   of  sorrow,  and   as 

the  foulest  crime  he  had  ever  committed  —  one  for  which 

I  have  DO  doubt  he  repented.* 

Governor  Simcoe  g  im  three  thousand  acres  of  land,  upon 

condition  that  be  would  build  a  saw-mill,  ■  grist-mill,  and  ■  church  — 
all  but  the  church  t  rty.     lb-  performed  bit  of  the 

contract,  and  the  title   to  his  land  was  confirmed      In  I  tie,  he 

had  his  mills,  a  comfortable  dwelling,  large  improTemej  i  good 

liver.  •  knew  him  at  that  period  I 

able  and 

aim.    At 
a  another,  tor  pass- 

II  aeqnic 

L    lb-  i 

It  that  a-  '.   him 

that  w;l>  promoted  bj  personal  enmity     -\:i 

;ht  on  embarrassments,  which  terminated  in  an  almost  entire 

loss  ( 4  He  died  in  lsii."— Tiknkk's  Himohy  or 

Tilt  iioLLAM'  PUBGBA!  >3. 


216  LIFE   OF   MARY  JEMISON. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Government  of  the  Iroquois — Civil  and  Military  Chiefs  —  Counsel- 
ors—Religious Beliefs  — The  Great  Spirit—  The  Evil  Spirit  — 
Religious  festivals  —  Sacrifice  of  the  White  Dog  —  The  Dance  — 
Marriage  Customs  —  Chastity  of  the  Indian  —  Polygamy. 

The  government  of  the  Six  Nations  when  they  were  in 
the  zenith  of  their  prosperity  and  power,  was  an  oligarchy, 
composed  of  a  mixture  of  elective  and  hereditary  power ; 
and  to  the  skeleton  of  such  a  government  the  remnant  of 
the  race  still  adhere.  Their  government  was  adminis- 
tered by  chiefs  —  each  tribe  having  two;  one  of  whom 
was  hereditary,  and  the  other  elective  ;  the  term  of  whose 
office  was  during  good  behavior,  and  might  be  removed 
for  any  real  or  supposed  sufficient  cause,  which,  however, 
was  seldom  put  in  execution.  The  elective  sachem  was 
the  military  chieftain,  whose  duty  it  was,  to  attend  to  all 
the  military  concerns  of  the  tribe,  and  command  the  war- 
riors in  battle.  They  were  both  members  of  the  general 
council  of  the  confederacy,  as  well  as  of  the  national 
council,  which  met  as  often  as  necessity  required,  and 
settled  all  questions,  involving  matters  in  which  their  own 
nation  only  had  an  interest ;  but  the  general  council  of 
the   confederacy  met  but  once  a  year,  except  in  cases  of 


DEII-Hli-WA-  II>.  217 

emergency,  [t  then  met  ai  Onondaga,  being  the  head- 
quartan  of  the  mosl  oentral  nation,  where  ai] 
turns  of  general  Interest,  such  as  peace  and  war  —  the 
concerns  of  tributary  nations,  and  all  aegociationfl  with 
the  French  and  English  were  debated,  deliberated  upon, 
and  decided.  All  decisions  made  by  the  chiefs  of  a  tribe, 
which  affected  the  members  of  that  tribe  only  —  all  de- 
cisions of  the  national  council,  solely  relative  to  the  afl 
of  that  nation,  (a  majority  of  chiefs  concurring,)*and  all 
inns  of  tin-  general  council  of  tin-  confederacy,  were 

laws  and  decrees  from  whieh  there  was  DO  appeal.     There 
is   also    a  ela<s  of  counselors    in    the   several    tribes,  who 

have  e  over,  but  no  direel  voioe  in  the  de- 

rision of  any  question,  t 


'  t: 


Phe  author  baa  fallen  into  an  error  in  tins  particular.  It  was  a 
fundamental  lav  of  the  con;  and  also  of  each  nation,  that  the 

clue!.-  "must  be  of  one  mind;"  that  is,  unanimous. —  [Ed. 

at  ii:-'  institution  of  the  league  fiftj  permanent  Bachemships  were 

.   and    in    I  u-  who  held 

ower  of  :  sy.    To  toenra 

order  in  ft  and  t"  determine  tin-  individuals  entitled,  the 

Bachemshi]  hereditary,  onder  limited  and  peculiar  la 

]      >achfins  themeeiTea  were  equal  in  rank  and  authority, 
and  inatead  «■:  I     territorial  jui  ,  their  p 

.lion  and  fraud,  Mich  sach.-iu  was  "  raised  ttp,"  and  invested  with 
•y  a  council  of  all  t  ma,  with  suitable  forms  and  cere- 

monies.    Until  this  ceremony  of  confirmation  or  investiture,  no  one 

could  become  a  ruler.     He  received,  when  raised  up,  the  name  of  the 
11 


218  LIFE    OF    MAEY   JEMISON. 

Perhaps  no  people  are  more  exact  observers  of  religious 
duties,  than  those  Indians  among  the  Senecas  who  are 
denominated  Pagans,  in  contradistinction  from  those,  who, 
having  renounced  some  of  their  former  superstitious  no- 
tions, have  obtained  the  name  of  Christians.  The  tradi- 
tionary faith  of  their  fathers,  having  been  orally  trans- 
mitted to  them  from  time  immemmorial,  is  implicitly 
believed,  scrupulously  adhered  to,  and  rigidly  practiced. 
They  are  agreed  in  their  sentiments  —  are  all  of  one  order ; 

sachem  ship  itself,  as  in  the  case  of  the  titles  of  nobility,  and  so  also 
did  bis  successors,  from  generation  to  generation.  The  sachemships 
were  distributed  unequally  between  the  five  nations.  Nine  of  them 
were  assigned  to  the  Mohawk  nation,  nine  to  the  Oneida,  fourteen  to 
the  Onondaga,  ten  to  the  Cayuga,  and  eigbt  to  the  Seneca.  The  sa- 
chems, united,  formed  the  council  of  the  League  —  the  ruling  btfy  in 
whom  resided  the  executive,  legislative,  and  judicial  authority. 

It  thus  appears  that  the  government  of  the  Iroquois  was  an  oligarchy, 
taking  the  t^n,  at  least,  in  the  literal  sense,  "  the  rule  of  the  few ; " 
and  while  more  system  is  observable  in  this,  than  in  the  oligarchies  of 
antiquity,  it  seems,  also,  better  calculated  in   its  framework  to  resist 

political  changes Next  to  the  sachems,  in  position,  stood  the 

chiefs  —  an  inferior  class  of  rulers,  the  very  existence  of  whose  office 
was  an  anomaly  in  the  oligarchy  of  the  Iroquois.  The  office  of  chief 
was  made  elective,  and  the  reward  of  merit ;  but  without  any  power 

of  descent,  the  title  terminating  with  the  individual After 

their  election  they  were  raised  up  by  a  council  of  the  nation  ;  but  a 
ratification  by  the  general  council  of  the  sachems  was  necessary  to 
complete  the  investiture.  The  powers  and  duties  of  the  sachems  and 
chiefs  were  entirely  of  a  civil  character,  and  confined  by  their  organic 
laws  to  the  affairs  of  peace."—  [League  of  the  Iroquois,  p.  62-11. 


i > i : 1 1- 1 1 1:-\\  \-\n>. 

individual  and  public  good,  especially  among  themeel 
being  the  great  motive  which  excitee  them  to  attend  to 
those  moral  virtues  thai  are  directed  and  explained  by 

all  their  rules,  and  in  all  their  oeremonj 

Many  yean   have  elapsed  since  the  introduction  of 
I  □    missionaries  among    them,  whom    they  have 

heard,  and  ?ery  generally  understand  the  purport  of  the 

thej  were  sent  to  deliver.    They  say  that  it  is 
highly  probable  that  Jesus  Christ  came  into  the  world  in 

old  tinn  fcablisb  a  religion  that  would  promote  the 

happfaieSS    of   the  White    people    on    the    other  >ide    of   the 

•  water,  (meaning  tin*  I  nd  that  he  died  for  the 

sin-  of  his  people,  as  the  missionaries  have  informed 
tln^s.  But,  they  say  that  Jesus  Christ  had  nothing  to 
do  with  them;  and  that  the  Christian  religion  was  not 

lied  for  their  benefit ;  but  rather,  should  they  em- 
brace it,  they  are   confident   it  would   make   them  W< 

consequently  do  them  an   injury.    They  saj   also, 

that  the  Great  Good  Spirit  gave  them  their  reli>:i«>n  : 

that  it  i-  adapted  to  their  circumstances,  situation, 

ami  habits, and  to  the  promotion  of  their  present  comfort, 

and  ultimate  happiness,  than  any  System  that  ever  has  or 

can  be  devised    They,  however,  believe  that  th<  I 
tian  religion  is  better  calculated  tor  the  good  of  white 

people  than   theirs    is,  and  wonder   that    thOM    who    I 
embraced  it,  du  nut  attend  mure  strictly  to  it 


220  LIFE    OF    MARY    J  EM  I  SON. 

and  feel  more  engaged  for  its  support  and  diffusion  among 
themselves.  At  the  present  time,  they  are  opposed  to 
preachers  or  schoolmasters  being  sent  or  coming  among 
them,  and  appear  determined  by  all  means  to  adhere  to 
their  ancient  customs. 

They  believe  in  a  Great  Good  Spirit,  whom  they  call  in 
the  Seneca  language  Nau-wah-ne-n,*  as  the  creator  of  the 
world,  and  of  every  good  thing ;  that  he  made  men,  and 
all  inoffensive  animals;  that  he  supplies  men  with  all 
the  comforts  of  life;  and  that  he  is  particularly  partial  to 
the  Indians,  who,  they  say,  are  his  peculiar  people.  They 
also  believe  that  he  is  pleased  in  giving  them  (the  Indians) 
good  gifts;  and  that  he  is  highly  gratified  with  their  good 
conduct,  that  he  abhors  their  vices,  and  that  he  is  willing-  to 
punish  them  for  their  bad  conduct,  not  only  in  this  wonWuit 
in  a  future  state  of  existence.  His  residence,  they  suppose, 
lies  at  a  great  distance  from  them,  in  a  country  that  is 
perfectly  pleasant,  where  plenty  abounds,  even  to  profu- 
sion. That  there  the  soil  is  completely  fertile,  and  the 
seasons  so  mild  that  the  corn  never  fails  to  be  good — 
that  the  deer,  elk,  buffalo,  turkeys,  and  other  useful  ani- 
mals, are  numerous,  and  that  the  forests  are  well  calculated 
to  facilitate  their  hunting  them  with  success  —  that  the 
streams  are  pure,  and  abound  with  fish;  and  nothing  is 
wanting,  to   render  fruition   complete.     Over  this  terri- 

*  Hd-rjcen-ne-yu.  —  [Ed. 


DBH-HE-WA-MI8. 

tory  fch<  Nauwahneu    presides  as   an    all  | 

king;  and  that  without  l  he  admits  to  his  plea 

all  whom  be  oonaidera  bo  be  worthy  of  enjoying  s<>  r 

l»li*ssc*ilMt~        To  thii    Being  the] 
prayers,  off  ive  thanks  for  I  and  per- 

form many  arts  of  devotion  and  reverem  -  . 

Tiny  likewise  believe  that  Nauwahneu  has  a  brother 

that  N  lesi  powerful  than  himself,  and  who  is  opposed  to 

him,  ami  every  one  that  is  or  wishes  to  be  good;  that  this 

Bad   Spirit*   made  all  evil   things,  snakes,  Wolves,  cata- 
mounts, and  all   other  poisonOUfl   or  nozions   animals   and 

:  prey,  except  the  bear,  which,  on  tin-  aooonnl  of 
the  exoellenoe  of  its  moat  for  food,  and  -kin  for  olothing, 

thuv    say    was    made    by    Nauwahneu.      Besides   all   this, 

they  Bay  be  makes  and  sends  thom  their  diseases,  had 

ther,  and   had  0rop8j   and  that  he  makes  and  supports 

witches.  He  owns  a  large  oonntry  adjoining  that  of  his 
brother,  with  whom  he  i<  continually  at  variance.  His 
fields  are  unproductive;  thick  clouds  intercept  the  rays 
of  the  sun,  and  consequently  destructive  frosts  are  fre- 
quent ;  game  lb  very  scarce,  and  not  easily  taken;  raven- 
imeronfl  ;  repti  •  erj  poisoned  tooth 

lie  in  the  path  of  the  traveler;   the   Mivams   are   muddy; 

and  hunger,  nakedness,  and  general  misery,  are  severely 
felt  by  those  who  unfortunately  become  his  tenant-.    He 

•  JIa-itf-yj-utt-'/t/t,  the  "Evil-iiiin-Jcd." — [Ku. 


2*22  LIFE    OF    MARY   JEMISOX. 

takes  pleasure  in  afflicting  the  Indians  here,  and,  after 
their  death,  receives  all  those  into  his  dreary  dominions 
who,  in  their  lifetime  have  been  so  vile  as  to  be  rejected 
by  Xauwahneu,  under  whose  eye  they  are  continued  in 
an  uncomfortable  state  for  ever.  To  this  source  of  evil 
they  offer  some  oblations,  to  abate  his  vengeance,  and 
render  him  propitious.  They,  however,  believe  him  to  be, 
in  a  degree,  under  subjection  to  his  brother,  and  incapable 
of  executing  his  plans  only  by  his  high  permission.  Pub- 
lic religious  duties  are  attended  to  in  the  celebration  of 
particular  festivals  and  sacrifices,  which  are  observed  with 
circumspection,  and  attended  with  decorum.  In  each 
year  they  have  five  feasts,*  or  stated  times  for  assembling 
in  their  tribes,  and  giving  thanks  to  Xauwahneu,  for  the 
blessings  which  they  have  received  from  his  kind,  liberal, 

*"Six  regular  festivals,  or  '  thanksgivings/  were  observed  by  the 
Iroquois.  The  first  in  the  order  of  time  was  the  Maple  festival.  This 
•was  a  return  of  thanks  to  the  maple  itself,  for  yielding  its  sweet  waters. 
Xext  was  the  Planting  festival,  designed  chiefly  as  an  invocation  of  the 
Great  Spirit  to  bless  the  seed.  Third  came  the  S-trawberry  festival, 
instituted  ass  a  thanksgiving  for  the  first  fruits  of  the  earth.  The 
fourth  was  the  Green  Corn  festival,  designed  as  a  thanksgiving 
acknowledgement  for  the  ripening  of  the  corn,  beans,  and  squashes. 
>"ext  was  celebrated  the  Harvest  festival,  instituted  as  a  general 
thanksgiving  to  '  our  supporters,'  after  the  gathering  of  the  harvest. 
Last  in  the  enumeration  is  placed  the  New  Year's  festival,  the  great 
jubilee  of  the  Iroquois,  at  which  the  white  dog  was  sacrificed."  — 
[League  of  the  Iroquois,  p.  183. 


B-HB-WA-ma 

and  provident   hand  ;   and   also  to  cm.-.  poo  the  beflJ 

means  of  meriting  a  continuance  of  his  fa 

of  these  feasts  is  immediately  after  they  have  fini 

rhiLT.  at  which  time  they give thanks  lor  the  favorable 
weather  and  gieal  quantity  of  sap  they  have  had.  and 
for  the  sugar  thai  they  have  been  allowed  to  make  for  the 

!it  of  their  families.     At  this,  as  at  all  tie- 

hiefs  arise  singly,  and  address  the  audience  Kb 
a  kind  of  exhortation,  in  which  they  express  their  own 
thankfulness,  orgs  the  necessity  and  propriety  serai 

gratitude,  and  point  out  the  course  which  ought  to  be 
pnrsned  by  each  individual,  in  order  that  Xauwahneu  may 
inne  to  bless  them,  and  that  the  evil  spirit   may  he 
defeated. 

occasions   the   chiefs    describe   a   perfectly 
Straight   line,   half  an  inch  wide,  and  perhaps  ten  miles 
.  which  they  direct  their  people  to  travel  upon,  by 
plac'.  foot   before  the  other,  with  the  heel  of  one 

on  the  toe  of  the  other;  and  so  on  till  they  arrive  at 
the  end.     The  meaning  Of  which   is,  that   they  must   not 
turn  aside  to  the  right   hand  or  t.»  the   left    into  the  paths 
Of  vice  ;   hut  keep  Straight  ahead  in  the  way  <»f  wcll-d- 
•  will  lead  them  to  the  paradise  of  Xauwalineu. 
I        econd  G  after  planting;  when  they  render 

thanks  for  the  pleasantness  of  the  a;  for  the  , 

time  they  have  had  fbf  preparing  their  ground  and  plant- 


224  LIFE   OF   MARY    JEMISON. 

ing  their  corn ;  and  are  instructed  by  their  chiefs  by  what 
means  to  merit  a  good  harvest. 

When  the  green  corn  becomes  fit  for  use,  they  hold 
their  third  or  green  corn  feast.  Their  fourth  is  celebrated 
after  corn  harvest ;  and  the  fifth  at  the  close  of  their 
year,  and  is  always  celebrated  at  the  time  of  the  old  moon 
in  the  last  of  January  or  first  of  February.  This  last 
deserves  particular  description. 

The  Indians  having  returned  from  hunting,  and  having 
brought  in  all  the  venison  and  skins  that  they  have  taken, 
a  committee  is  appointed,  consisting  of  from  ten  to  twenty 
active  men,  to  superintend  the  festivities  of  the  great 
sacrifice  and  thanksgiving  that  is  to  be  immediately  cele- 
brated. This  being  done,  preparations  are  made  at  the 
council-house,  or  place  of  meeting,  for  the  reception  and 
accommodation  of  the  whole  tribe ;  and  then  the  cere- 
monies are  commenced ;  and  the  whole  is  conducted  with 
a  great  degree  of  order  and  harmony,  under  the  direction 
of  the  committee. 

Two  white  dogs,  without  spot  or  blemish,  are  selected, 
(if  such  can  be  found,  and  if  not,  two  that  have  the  fewest 
spots,)  from  those  belonging  to  the  tribe,  and  killed  near 
the  door  of  the  council-house,  by  being  strangled.  A 
wound  on  the  animal,  or  an  effusion  of  blood,  would  spoil 
the  victim,  and  render  the  sacrifice  useless.  The  dogs 
are  then  painted  red  on  their  faces,  edges  of  their  ears,  and 


m:ii-iii:-\\.\-mi-. 

on  various  parts  of  their  bodies,  and  an  curiously  d< 
with  ribbons  of  different  colon*  and  fine  feathers, 

tied  and  <l  on  in  bucd  ■  manner  as  to  make  the 

most  elegant  appearance.    They  an  then  hnng  oo  i  . 
■em  ill.-  deof  of  the  counoil-houae,  at  the  bight  of  twenty 
from  the  ground.    The  practice  Hieing  two  i 

formerly  strictly  adhered  to,  but  at  present  they  Bacri- 
Thia  being  done,  the  frolic  Ki  commei 
by  those  who  an  present,  while  the  committee  run  thro 

tribe,  and  harry  the  people  to  assemble,  by  knocking 

en  their  houses.    At  this  time  the  committee  an-  naked  — 

:inur  only  a  bieech-clout —  and  each  carries  a  paddle, 

with  which  he  takes  np  ashes,  and  Matter-  them  about  the 

•    ery  direction.    Int]  se  of  the  ceremonies, 

all  the  lire  is  extinguished  in  every  hut  throughout  the 

tribe,  and  new  lire,  struck  from  the  flint  en  each  hearth,  is 

kindled,  after  having  removed  the  whole  of  the  ashes, 

coal-.  ♦-!<•.     Baying  done  this,  and  discharged  one  or  two 

•  on;  and  in  this  manner  they  proceed  till  they 

in  the  tribe.    This  finishes  the 

y. 

1  I  immjtfe  i  .  -_r«>  through  the 

.:  with  bearskin  en  their  legs;   and  at  every  time  they 

i  gun.    They  also  beg  through  the  tribe, 
basket  in  which  to  receive  what. 

!.      The   al;  Indian   tobtt 


226  LIFE   OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

other  articles  that  are  used  for  incense  or  sacrifice.  Each 
manager,  at  this  time,  carries  a  dried  tortoise  or  turtle 
shell,  containing  a  few  beans,  which  he  frequently  rubs  on 
the  walls  of  the  houses,  both  inside  and  out.  This  kind 
of  manoeuvring  by  the  committee  continues  two  or  three 
days,  during  which  time  the  people  at  the  council-house 
recreate  themselves  by  dancing. 

On  the  fourth  or  fifth  day,  the  committee  make  false 
faces  of  the  husks,  in  which  they  run  about,  making  a 
frightful  but  ludicrous  appearance.  In  this  dress,  still 
wearing  the  bearskin,  they  run  to  the  council-house,  smear- 
ing themselves  with  dirt,  and  bedaub  every  one  who  refuses 
to  contribute  something  toward  filling  the  basket  of  in- 
cense, which  they  continue  to  carry,  soliciting  alms.  Dur- 
ing all  this  time,  they  collect  the  Evil  Spirit,  or  drive  it 
off  entirely,  for  the  present,  and  also  concentrate  within 
themselves  all  the  sins  of  their  tribe,  however  numerous 
or  heinous. 

On  the  eighth  or  ninth  day,  the  committee  having 
received  all  their  sins,  as  before  observed,  into  their 
own  bodies,  they  take  down  the  dogs ;  and  after  having 
transfused  the  whole  of  them  into  one  of  their  own  num- 
ber, he,  by  a  peculiar  sleight  of  hand,  or  kind  of  magic, 
works  them  all  out  of  himself  into  the  dogs.  The  dogs, 
thus  loaded  with  all  the  sins  of  the  people,  are  placed 
upon  a  pile  of  wood,  that  is  directly  set  on  fire.    Here 


DEH-HB-WA-MIS. 

they   are   burned,   together   with   iln*    sins   with   which 

they  were   loaded,  surrounded    by  the   multitude,  who 

throw  [noemse  of  tobacco,  <>r  the  like,  into  the  I'm',  the 

;  of  which,  they  My,  goes  op  to  Naowahneu,  to  whom 

it  is  pleasant  and  acceptable.* 

*  "On  the  morning  of  the  fifth  day,  1000  after  dawn,  the  whir 
was  burned  cm  an  altar  of  wood,  erected  bj  the   "  keeper!  of  tin-  frith," 

Bear  the  council  homo.    It  is  difficult,  from  outward  a  a,  to 

draw  forth   the  true  intent  with  wliit-h    the  dog  was  burned.      Tl 

scuritj  with  which  tin-  objool  wss  v.  [led  has  led  to  rations  conjee- 
Among  other  things,  it  bee  been  prononneed  ■  sacrinN 
In  the  religioue  system  of  the  [roquou  there  is  no  recognition 

of  the  doctrine  of  atonement  for  sin,  or  of  the  absolution   or  fa 

I'pon  this  whole  subject   their  system  is  silent.     An  act 
OOee  done,  ed  beyond  the  power  of  change.     Tin 

advance  upon  this  point  of  faith  was,  the  belief    that  good    deeds  CSU- 

eeDed  the  evil,  thus  placing  heaven,  through  good  works,  within  the 

.    of  all.      The    notion   that    this  was    an  expiation    for  sin  is  thus 

1  by  their  system  of  theology  itself     The  other  idea,  that  the 
pie,  by  some  mystic  proc  transferred  to  the 

by  him  thus  borne  away,  on  the  principle  of  the  - 

of  th<  Without  any  foundation  in  truth.      The  burning 

of  the  dog  bad  not  the  slightest  connection  with  the  sin  of  the  people. 
On  the  contrary,  the  simple  idea  of  the  sacrifice  was,  to  a  ad  ap  the 

spirit  of  the  do^  as.  a  n.  Spirit,  to  *nnOUn<  6  their 

continued  fidelity  to  fa  .  and,  also,   to  convey  to  him  their 

I    thanks  for  the    b  The  fidelity  of  the 

nion  of  the  Indian,  as  a  hunter,  blematical  of  their 

fidelity.    No  messenger  so  trust]  could  be  Bund,  to  bear  their  peti* 

The   Iroquois   believed   that  the   « 
Spirit  made   a   covenant   with   their  fathers,  to   th< 


228  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISOX. 

This  feast  formerly  continued  nine  days,  hut  at  present 
it  is  not  usually  held  more  than  from  five  to  seven, 
although  until  within  a  few  years  nine  days  were  strictly 
observed  ;  and  during  that  time  the  chiefs  review  the 
national  affairs  of  the  year  past ;  agree  upon  the  best  plan 
to  be  pursued  through  the  next  year,  and  attend  to  all 
internal  regulations. 

On  the  last  day,  the  whole  company  partake  of  a  dinner 
in  common,  consisting  of  meat,  corn,  and  beans,  boiled 
together  in  large  kettles,  and  stirred  till  the  whole  is  com 
pletely  mixed  and  soft.  This  mess  is  devoured  without 
much  ceremony.  Some  eat  with  a  spoon,  by  dipping  out 
of  the  kettles ;  others  serve  themselves  in  small  dippers ; 
some  in  one  way,  and  some  in  another,  till  the  whole  is 
consumed.  After  this,  they  perform  the  war-dance,  the 
peace-dance,  and  smoke  the  pipe  of  peace  ;  and  then,  free 
from  iniquity,  each  repairs  to  his  place  of  abode,  prepared 
to  commence  a  new  year.  In  this  feast,  temperance  is 
observed,  and  commonly  order  prevails  in  a  /greater 
degree  than  would  naturally  be  expected. 

They  are  fond  of  the  company  of  spectators,  who  are 
disposed  to  be  decent,  and  treat  them  politely  in  their 

they  should  send  up  to  him  the  spirit  of  a  dog,  of  a  spotless  white,  he 
would  receive  it  as  a  pledge  of  their  adherence  to  his  worship,  and  his 
ears  would  thus  be  opened  in  a  special  degree  to  their  petitions."  — 
[League  of  the  Iroquois,  p.  216. 


Dl  B-HE-WA-BH& 

way:  l»ut  havii  frequently  Imposed  npon  by  the 

wliitrs.  they  treat  them  generally  with  indifferent 

Even  their  danoes  appear  to  be  religious  r 
chilly  their  war  and   peaoe  dances.    The  war-danoc  Is 
said  to  have  originated  about  iln*  time  that  the  Bh 

N  urthern  Indians,  commenced  the  old  war  with 
the  Cberokees  and  other  southern  Indian  nations,  about 
one  hundred  3  ears  ago. 

When  a  tribe,  <»r  ■  number  of  tribes*  of  the  six  Natl 
had  assembled  for  the  purpose  of  going  to  battle  with 
their  enemies,  the  chiefs  sang  this  song,  and  accompa- 
nied the  music  with  dancing,  and  gestures  thai  corre- 
sponded with  the  sentiments  expressed,  as  a  kind  of  stim- 
ulant to  increase  their  courage  and  anxiety,  to  march 
forward  t<»  the  place  of  earns 

Those    days  having  passed  away,  the   Indians  at   this 
(lay  sing  the  "war-song,"  to  commemorate  the  achi< 

iin-nts    of    their  lathers,   and    as    a    kind    of    amusement. 

When^hey  perform  it,  they  arm  themselves  with  a  war- 
club,  tomahawk,  and  knife,  and  commence  singing  with  a 
firm  voice,  and  a  stern,  resolute  countenance;  I. ut  1  • . 
they  gei  through,  they  exhibit  in  their  features  and 
•ns  the  mosl  shocking  appearance  of  anger,  fury,  and 
oe,  that  can  be  imagined.  No  exhibition  of  the 
kind  can  be  more  terrifying  to  a  stranger. 


230  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISOX. 

The  peace-dance  is  performed  to  a  tune  without  words, 
by  both  sexes.  The  Indians  stand  erect,  in  one  place, 
and  strike  the  floor  with  the  heel  and  toes  of  one  foot, 
and  then  of  the  other,  (the  heels  and  toes  all  the  while 
nearly  level,)  without  changing  their  position  in  the  least. 
The  squaws  at  the  same  time  perform  it,  by  keeping  the 
feet  close  together,  and,  without  raising  them  from  the 
ground,  move  a  short  distance  to  the  right,  and  then  to 
left,  by  first  moving  their  toes,  and  then  their  heels.  This 
dance  is  beautiful,  and  is  generally  attended  with  decency 

No  people  on  earth  appear  to  be  so  strictly  moral  — 
in  conformity  to  their  laws  and  customs  —  as  the  North 
American  Indians  generally,  in  their  intercourse  between 
the  sexes.  The  several  nations  have  different  forms  of 
approaching  to  courtship  and  marriage,  which,  however, 
are  all  very  similar — most  of  the  tribes  tolerate  and 
practice  polygamy  and  divorce  ;  some,  however,  do  not. 
Among  the  Senecas,  both  are  tolerated,  and  practiced  to 
some  extent. 

For  neither  marriage  nor  divorce  is  there  any  particu- 
lar form  or  ceremony,  other  than  when  an  Indian  sees  a 
squaw  whom  he  fancies,  he  sends  a  present  to  her  mother 
or  parents,  who,  on  receiving  it,  consult  with  his  parents, 
his  friends,  and  each  other,  on  the  propriety  and  expe- 
diency of  the  proposed  connection.    If  it  is  not  agreeable, 


DEH-HB-WA-MI8. 

tfae  present  is  returned;   bu(  If  it  is,  the  foVtf  Ifl  iiii'.-i 

of  his  good  fortune,  and  Immediately  goet  i<»  liw  with 
her,  or  takes  her  t»>  a  hui  of  bis  own  preparin 

*"'■  was  not  found.  <1  upon  the  affections,  which  constitute 

nly  legitimate  basis  of  tin-  relation  in  dvili/  .,  bat  was 

regulated  excluai rel j  aa  a  matter  of  physical  It  wai 

:i  the  parties  to  be  married;  i»ut  lubatantiallj 
their  mothers,  acting  oftentimes  under  tin-  f  the 

matrons  and  tries  men  of  the  tribes  to  which  the  parti 

*    *    *    "When  the  mother  considered  her  son  of  a  suitabk 
fur  marriage,  she  locked  about  her  for  a  maiden,  whom,  from  report  or 
1  would  accord  with  him  in  disposition 
nation  between  the 

the  near  relative.-,  and  the 
elderly  persons  of  |  -  to  which  each  belonged,  were  • 

hut  their  opinions  were  of  no  avail,  independently  of  the  wish(  -  of  the 
moth'  -.     Not  the  least  singular  feature  of  th<   transaction 

..tire  ignorance  in  which  the  parties  remained  • 
i  ;   the    first   intimation    they  receive  :nee- 

ment  without,  perh  ..noun  o. 

each  other.     Bemi  tion    on    th,  fa 

attei!  tch  other  as  the  gift  of  their  parents,      As 

obedience  to  them  in  all  their  requirements  was  inculcated  i 
mount  dur 

m,  in  addition   to  these  motives,  wss  sufficient  to 

.a    father  iiev.  I    himself  COD- 

his  children.      To    interfere  would    1 

an  in i  de  immunii  aatever  the]  ••■ 

as  sa<  .    1  by  him,  as  h  flexible  in  enforcii  • 

fur  hi-  own.     *     *     *     * 

'•  Ikon  the  very  nature  of  the  marriage  institution  among  the  Iruquuia, 


232  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

If  a  difficulty  of  importance  arises  between  a  married 
couple,  they  agree  to  separate.  They  divide  their  prop- 
erty and  children  ;  the  squaw  takes  the  girls,  the  Indian 
the  boys,  and  both  are  at  liberty  to  marry  again. 

From  all  history  and  tradition,  it  would  appear  that 
neither  seduction,  prostitution,  nor  rape,  was  known  in 
the  calendar  of  crimes  of  this  rude  savage  race,  until  the 
females  were  contaminated  by  the  embrace  of  civilized 
man.  And  it  is  a  remarkable  fact,  that,  among  the  great 
number  of  women  and  girls  who  have  been  taken  prison- 
ers by  the  Indians  during  the  last  two  centuries,  although 

it  follows  that  the  passion  of  love  was  entirely  unknown  among  them. 
Affection  after  marriage  would  naturally  spring  up  between  the  parties, 
from  association,  from  habit,  and  from  mutual  dependence ;  but  of  that 
marvelous  passion  which  originates  in  a  higher  development  of  the 
powers  of  the  human  heart,  and  is  founded  upon  a  cultivation  of  the 
affections  between  the  sexes,  they  were  entirely  ignorant.  In  their 
temperaments  they  were  below  this  passion  in  its  simplest  forms. 

"Attachments  between  individuals,  or  the  cultivation  of  each  other's 
affections  before  marriage,  was  entirely  unknown ;  so  also  were  pro- 
mises of  marriage.  The  fact  that  individuals  were  united  in  this  rela- 
tion, without  their  knowledge  or  consent,  and  perhaps  without  even  a 
previous  acquaintance,  illustrates  and  confirms  this  position.  This  in- 
vasion of  the  romances  of  the  novelist,  and  of  the  conceits  of  the  poet, 
upon  the  attachments  which  sprang  up  in  the  bosom  of  Indian  society, 
may,  perhaps,  divest  the  mind  of  some  pleasing  impressions ;  but  these 
are  entirely  inconsistent  with  the  marriage  institution,  as  it  existed 
among  them,  and  with  the  facts  of  their  social  history." —  [League  of 
the  Iroquois,  pp.  320-323. 


DEH-HE-W1-MI& 

they  have  often  been  tomahawked  and  Boalped,  their  I 
let  ripped  open  while  alive,  and  otherwise  barbarously 
tortured,  not  a  Bingle  instance  Is  on  record,  or  has  ever 
found  currency  in  the  great  stock  of  gossip  and  Btory 
which  civilized  society  is  so  prone  to  circulate,  thai  a  fe- 
male prisoner  has  ever  been  Ill-treated,  abused,  or  her 

esty  insulted,  l>y  an  Indian,  with  reference  to  h<-r  • 
This  universal  trail  in  the  Indian  character  can  nol  be 
wholly,  if  in  the  least,  attributed  to  the  cold  temperament 
of  their  constitutions  —  the  paucity  of  their  animal  func- 
tions, or  wan!  of  natural  propensities  —  for  polygamy  is 
not  only  tolerated  but  extensively  indulged  in,  an 
nearly  all  the  North  American  tribes,    of  this  we  have 
the  most  abundant  proof,  not  relying  solely  on  the  testi- 
mony <»f  Mrs.  Jemison,  who  Btates  that  it  was  tolen 
and  practiced  in  tin-  Seneca  nation,  hut  on  the  statements 

of  all   writers    on   that    BUDJect,  and    of  all    travelers  and 

sojourners  in  the  Indian  country. 

Major  llarston,  commanding  officer  at  the  l'.  s.  l 
Armstrong,  in  the  North-western  Territory,  in  1820,  in  an 
official  reportto  our  government,  relative  t«>  the  condition, 
.     ligion,  etc.  of  the  various  iril.es  ,,f  the  North- 

!     Hans,  -tan-,  tint!  '•  many  i>\  these  Indian>  have 

three  wives;    the  greatest  number  that   I  have 

known  any  man  to  have  at  one  tin  five.     When  an 

Indian  wants  more  than  one  wife,  he   generally   prefers 
15  J* 


234  LIFE    OF   MARY  JEMISOX. 

that  they  be  sisters,  as  they  are  more  likely  to  agree,  and 

live  together  in  harmony.     A  man  of  fifty  or  sixty  years 

old,  who  has  two  or  three  wives,  will  frequently  marry  a 

o 
girl  of  sixteen." 

On  the  other  hand,  this  abstemiousness  can  not  be  at- 
tributed to  the  dictates  of  moral  virtue,  as  that  would  be 
in  direct  opposition  to  all  their  other  traits  of  character. 
And,  again,  no  society  or  race  of  men  exists,  so  purely 
moral,  but  that,  if  there  was  any  crime  within  their  power 
to  perpetrate,  to  which  they  were  prompted  by  their 
passions,  some  one  or  more  would  be  guilty  of  commiting 
it,  if  restrained  by  moral  virtue  only. 

Therefore  we  are  driven  to  the  conclusion,  that  the 
young  warrior  has  been  taught  and  trained  up  from  his 
infancy,  to  subdue  this  passion ;  and  to  effect  that  object, 
he  has  been  operated  upon  by  some  direful,  superstitious 
awe,  and  appalling  fear  of  the  consequences  of  the  vio- 
lation of  female  chastity ;  and,  with  the  same  anathema 
held  to  his  view,  taught  to  avoid  temptation,  by  demean- 
ing himself  perfectly  uninquisitive  and  modest,  in  the 
presence  of  females,  and  especially  female  prisoners.  It 
is  not  supposed,  however,  that  great  exertions  are  made 
at  the  present  day,  to  instill  those  prejudices,  if  I  may  be 
allowed  so  to  apply  the  word,  into  the  Indian  youth,  for 
those  dicta  have  been  so  long  promulgated,  and  obedience 
thereto  so  rigidly  enforced,  through  so  many  generations 


DBB-m-wi-mg. 

that    tin  y    have  become   an   Inborn   characteristic   of  the 
We  tan  easily  perceive  the  policy  of  the  ancient  found- 

of  this  precautionary  branoh  of  savage  education, 

it  is  worthy  of  the  paternity  of  a  Solon.  By  this  precau- 
tion. Jealousy,  feuds,  strife,  and  bloodshed,  are  avoided 
ainon^r  the  warriors,  while  they  are  out  on  their  predatory 
DS,  stealthily  seizing  prisoners,  scalps,  or  plunder 
by  ni^rlit,  or  warily  and  noiselessly  Winding  their  00 
through  the  forest  hy  day. 


236  LIFE    OF    MARY   JEMISON. 


CHAPTER  XVIII  * 

Life  of  Mary  continued  —  Seneca  Reservations  sold  in  1825 — Is  left 
among  the  whites  —  Discontented  —  Sold  her  remaining  reserva- 
tion, and  removed  to  Buffalo  creek  —  Professes  Christianity  —  Her 
death  —  Is  buried  near  the  Mission  church  —  Description  of  her 
tombstone  —  Her  descendants. 

More  than  eighteen  years  have  elapsed  since  Mary 
Jemison  related  the  preceding  narrative  of  her  life,  and 
most  of  its  appendages,  to  our  deceased  friend,  the  au- 
thor of  the  first  edition;  during  which  period  many  im- 
portant incidents  have  transpired,  and  material  changes 
taken  place  involving  the  destiny  of  the  principal  sub- 
ject of  this  memoir,  her  family  and  friends,  although 
none  very  remarkable  or  unexpected. 

Mary  Jemison  continued  to  reside  on  her  flats,  plant, 
hoe,  and  harvest  her  corn,  beans,  squashes,  etc.,  annually, 
in  the  same  routine  of  laborious  activity  and  undisturbed 
tranquility,  which  she  had  always  pursued  and  enjoyed, 
in  times  of  peace  in  the  nation,  and  concord  in  her  family. 
But  the  evening  of  her  eventful  life  was  not  suffered 
thus  smoothly  to  pass  away.  The  Senecas  having  sold 
all  their  reservations  on  th^Genesee  River  in  1825,  and 

*  This  chapter  was  written  by  Ebenezer  Mix,  Esqr. 


ftllOWING   BEB  H--I-I,   AM>  MODKRM    MPBOVKMBNTfl 


i 


DEH-HE-WA-MIS.  239 

given  po8se88ioD  to  the  whites  goon  after,  they  remi 
with  their  families  to  Tonawanda,   Buffalo  Creek, 
Cattaraugus    reservations,   leaving    lire.    Jamison,    her 
daughters,  and  their  husbands,  on  her  two  square  miles, 

BUITOUnded  l>y  the  whites  in  every  direct  ion.  Thus  situ- 
ated, she  and  her  children  grew  as  discontented  and  un- 
easy, afl  Alexander  Selkirk  W88  en  the  Island  of  Juan 
Fernandas. 

They  determined  to  leave   their  solitary   and   Isolated 

abode  among  the  whites,  and  again  join  their  tribe,  mix 

in  tl  ;y.  and   partake  of  the  joyfl   and   the   sorrows 

of  their  kindred  and  friends.  With  this  in  view, 
Jemiaon  80ld  her  annuity  of  three  hundred  dollars  per 
annum,  or  rather,  received  of  the  obligors  a  commutation 
therefor,  in  ready  money.  She  likewise  sold  her  remain- 
ing two  square  miles  of  land,  including  her  "flat-."  t-> 
ire.  Henry  B.  Gibson  and  Jellis  Olute.  In  the  sum- 
mer of  1831,  ahe  removed  to  Buffalo  Creek  reservation, 
where  she  purchased  the  Indian  possessory  righl  I  • 
farm  on  the  Buffalo  Flats,  on  which  ahe  resided  in  a  b1 

of  peace  and  Quietude,  until  the  time  of  her  <;• 

Sire,   Jemiaon'i    good    traits  of   character  were   i 
wholly  "f  the  negative  kind;  ahe  exhibited  a  rare  exam* 

of  unostentatious  charity  and  true  benevolent  • 
appeared  t«»  take  pleasure  and  Belf-aatiafaction  in  reliev- 
ing the  distress,  and  supplying  the  Wantfl  of  her  Wi..T. 


240  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

creatures,  whether  white  or  red ;  any  thing  she  possessed, 
however  much  labor  it  might  have  cost  her,  was  freely 
given,  when  she  thought  the  necessities  of  others  required 
it.  It  would  redound  much  to  the  honor  of  the  Christian 
religion,  if  some  of  its  members  would  pattern,  in  some 
measures,  after  the  pagan  woman,  in  practicing  this  most 
exalted  of  Christian  virtues,  chanty,  in  feelings  as  well  as 
in  actions. 

The  bodily  infirmities  of  old  age  gradually  increased 
in  Mrs.  Jemison,  and  enervated  her  frame ;  yet  she  re- 
tained her  reason  and  mental  faculties  to  an  uncommon 
extent,  for  a  person  of  her  age ;  and  her  society  was  not 
only  endurable,  but  rendered  highly  interesting  and  de- 
sirable, by  her  natural  exuberant  flow  of  animal  spirits 
and  good  nature.  In  the  summer  of  1833,  she,  in  a  peacea- 
ble and  friendly  manner,  seceded  from  the  pagan  party  of 
her  nation,  and  joined  the  Christian  party,  having  in  her 
own  view,  and  to  the  satisfaction  of  her  spiritual  instruc- 
tor, the  Rev.  Asher  Wright,  missionary  at  that  station, 
repudiated  paganism,  and  embraced  the  Christian  religion. 
In  the  autumn  succeeding,  she  was  attacked  by  disease 
for  almost  the  first  time  in  her  protracted  pilgrimage,  and 
dropped  away  suddenly  from  the  scenes  of  this  life,  on 
the  19th  day  of  September,  1833.  at  her  own  dwelling  on 
the  Buffalo  Creek  reservation,  aged  about  ninety-one  years. 
Her  funeral  was  conducted  after  the  manner,  and  with 


DEH-HK-w  a-mi-;.  841 

I 

tho    usual    ceremonies    practiced    at     ( "liri>tian    l.ur. 

ami  was  attended  l»y  i  Urge  concourse  of  people,    a 

marble   dab   DOH  marks    tin*    spot    whSN    BCI  earthly  re- 
uiains    rest,    in    the    graveyard   msir   tin-    Beneca   Mission 

ohnrehj  with  the  following  Inscription  s 


In 

lory  of 
TlJK  WlIlTE  WuMAX, 

M  A  R  V    JEM  1  SON, 

Daughter  of 

Thomas  JeMOM   k  Jan>:   Iilwis, 

Born  on  the  oeetB,  bttWSMI  Inland  uud  Phila.,  in  1742  or  3.     Taken 

captive  at  Marsh   Creek,  Pa.  in  11  oH  carried  down  the  Ohio,  Adopted 

into  an  Indian   family.     In  1751*   removed  to  Genesee   River.     Was 

naturalized  in  1817. 

K.  in  iv.-l  to  this  place  in  1831. 

And  having  survival  two  husbands  and  five  children,  leaving  three 

still  alive; 

She  Died  Sept  19th  1833  aged  about  ninety-one  years, 

II.ivii._'  a  In  expressed  a  hope  of  pardon  through 

.-is  dean 
"  The  counsel  of  the  Lord  that  shall  stand." 


Mrs.  Jenrison's  three  children,   Betsey!  Nancy,  and 

,,  who  rorvived  her,  all  lived  respected,  ami  died  re- 

grettodf  at  their  several  places  of  residence  on  the  Seneca 

•\atiuns,  in    the    -hurt    ipeCC  of  01160   umiiths,  in   the 

autumn  of  is:jo,  aged,  respectiyely,  sixty-nine,  sixty-tl 
11 


242  LIFE    OF    MARY    JEMISON. 

and  fifty-eight  years,  leaving  a  large  number  of  children 
and  grandchildren  to  lament  their  loss. 

Jacob  Jemison,  the  grandson  of  Mrs.  Jemison,  men- 
tioned by  her  in  Chapter  X,  as  having  received  a  liberal 
education,  and  having  commenced  the  study  of  medicine, 
passed  through  a  regular  course  of  medical  studies,  with 
great  success,  and  was  appointed  an  assistant  surgeon  in 
the  United  States  Navy ;  in  which  capacity  he  sustained 
an  excellent  moral,  social,  and  professional  character, 
which  requires  no  stronger  confirmation,  than  the  laconic 
eulogium  pronounced  by  Capt.  E.,  the  commander  of  the 
vessel  on  board  of  which  he  performed  duty7.  Capt.  E., 
being  asked  by  a  gentleman  who  had  known  Jemison 
when  a  boy,  how  he  sustained  the  character  of  his  situ- 
ation, promptly  replied :  "  There  is  no  person  on  board 
the  ship  so  generally  esteemed  as  Mr.  Jemison,  nor  a 
better  surgeon  in  the  navy."  '  Dr.  Jemison  died  five  or 
six  years  ago,  on  board  his  ship  in  the  Mediterranean 
squadron,  when  about  forty  years  of  age. 

Several  of  the  grandchildren  of  Mrs.  Jemison,  now 
living,  are  highly  respected  in  their  nation ;  while  their 
talents  and  moral  standing  are  duly  appreciated,  and  their 
civilities  reciprocated  among  the  whites.  They  have  ac- 
quired the  use  of  the  English  language  sufficiently  to 
speak  it  fluently,  and  have  adopted  the  dress,  habits,  and 
manners  of   civilized  society.     Her   grandchildren   and 


DEH-HB-WA-KI&  248 

greai-grandohfldreii   are  nomerooe:   the]  on  the 

remaining  Beneoa  reservations  in  tbj  at  present ; 

hut  will,  undoubtedly,  ere  long,  take  their  departure  from 
tin*  hind  of  their  fathers,  and  assume  Important  positions 

in  legislative  and  judicial  stations  in  the  new  Indian  trrri- 

torj  :"  the  Mississippi.* 

'     •  "The  author,  in  fall  boyhood,  has  often  seen  the  '  Whit*  Woman,' 
as  she  was  uniformly  called  by  ti.  rs  well 

•.em  in  which  .-In-  was  held. 

hail  one  ion  who  wee  ■  terror  to  Indians  as 

well  as  to  the  early  white  lettlen  -    left  many  d.'.-e.ndants  who 

are  not  unworthy  of  her  good  name.    Jacob  Jamison,  e  grandson  of 

here,  received  a  liberal  education,  peeeed  through  a  OOOrM  Of  medical 
stud:  is  appointed  assistant  surgeon  in  the  United  States  Navy, 

lie  died  on  board  of  his  ship  in    the  Mediterranean."  [Tl  km. it's  LIist. 
or  the  Holland  Pcrcuask,  p.  295. 


244  LIFE    OF   MARY  JEMISOX. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Confederacy  of  the  Iroquois  —  Extent  of  their  possessions  —  Red 
Jacket  —  Sales  of  reservations  —  Ogden  Land  Company  —  Govern- 
ment policy  of  removal  west  of  the  Mississippi  —  The  ultimate  ex- 
tinction of  the  Red  race. 

History  and  tradition  alike  inform  us  that  the  Mo- 
hawks, the  Oneidas,  the  Cayugas,  and  the  Senecas,  had, 
from  time  immemorial,  formed  themselves  into  a  great 
confederacy,  strictly  adhering  to  an  offensive  and  defensive 
alliance.  They  occupied,  for  their  dwelling  grounds,  a 
wide-spread  territory,  extending  from  near  the  banks  of 
the  Hudson  to  the  shores  of  Lake  Erie,  and  from  the 
mouth  of  the  Alleghany  to  the  confines  of  the  St.  Law- 
rence. This  tract  comprises  a  greater  body  of  more  fertile 
land,  combined  with  a  temperate  and  healthy  climate, 
great  facilities  of  water  communication  —  not  only  within 
the  territory,  but  extending  from  it  in  all  directions  — 
with  extensive  hunting  grounds  and  fisheries,  than  any 
other  tract  of  the  same  extent  in  North  America. 

This  territory  is  admirably  adapted  to  the  occupation 
of  a  roving  and  migratory  people,  who  depend  more  on 
the  chase  and  on  the  spontaneous  productions  of  nature 


DEII-IIE-Wa-MIs\ 

i*tenance,  than  on  agriculture  and  the   regular  pro- 
dnctkmi  of  labor.     Beside  thli  rasl  domain  for  i  i 

e,  they  claimed  an  ezolojdre  right  to  all  that  n 
of  country  between  the  Ohio  River  and  Lake  now 

the  State  of  Ohio.)  for  a   spacious   hunting  ground;   and 

tin-  martial  prowess  of  that  mighty  confederacy  enabled 
them  promptly  t<»  repel  any  intrusion  firom  other  bribes. 
They  were  Indeed  a  mighty  people  —  whose  forcei  oonld 

;  •    seen,  and  whose  power  oonld  1><'  felt,  and  often  was 
filt.  firom  the  hanks  of  the  St.  Lawrence  t«>  the  Golf  of 
M-  dco,  and  firom  tin-  tides  of  the  Hudson  to  tin-  bans 
the  Mississippi.    Until  the  y»-ar  1712,  this  people  were 

calh-d  by  the  English*    "The   Five  Nations,"  or   "The 
erates;"  by  the  French,  "The  Iroquoi<;"  by  the 
Dutch,  "The  lffaqnas ;"  and  by  themselyee  •The  Min- 
!/••    During  that  year,  the  Tnsoaroras,  whose  habita- 
tion had  been  in  the  west  part  of  North  Carolina,  after 
B  disturbances  with  the  whites  in  that    region,  evaou- 
I  their  possesions  in  that  colony,  removed  to  Western 
Fork,  and  were  adopted  }>y  the  Mil  a  sixth 

nation.    They  lived  between  the  ( meidas  and  ( mondi 

on  lands  assigned  them  for  a  residence  by  the  former; 

*  This  is  an  error  of  the  author.     The  Iroquois  never  called  them- 
,  but  always  the  y/"-</'-»<"-v'(iri-;i",  or   "  The  lYoplo 
of  t:.  They  likened   their  coalVdcraey  to  a    "long 

home."—  [Ko. 


246  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

after  which,  the   English  usually  denominated  the  con- 
federates "The  Six  Nations."* 

In  1784,  soon  after  peace  had  been  ratified  between 
the  United  States  and  Great  Britain,  a  treaty  of  peace  and 
amnesty  was  concluded  between  the  United  States  and 
the  Six  Nations,  in  which  their  territorial  limits  were  de- 
fined ;  to  wit,  they  were  to  possess  all  the  State  of  New 
York  west  of  what  was  called  the  "  Property  Line,"  with 
the  exception  of  two  reservations  —  one  of  six  miles 
square,  including  Fort  Oswego ;  and  the  other,  along  the 
Niagara  River,  about  thirty-five  miles  long  and  four 
miles  wide,  including  forts  Niagara  and  Schlosser,  and 
the  Portage  road  from  Lake  Ontario  to  Lake  Erie.  The 
Property  Line  here  referred  to  was  a  line  commencing 
at  the  north-east  corner  of  Pennsylvania,  and  running  in 
its  general  course  a  little  east  of  north,  crossing  the  Mo- 
hawk River,  at  or  near  the  place  where  the  division  line 

*  The  names  of  the  several  nations,  in  the  Seneca  dialect,  are  as 
follows :  — 

1.  Mohawk  Nation —  Gd-ne-a'-ga-o-no' :  or,  People,  Possessors  of 
the  Flint. 

2.  Onondaga  Nation —  O-nuri -d'd-ga-o-no'  ;  or,  People  on  the  Hills. 

3.  Seneca  Nation  —  Nun-da' -wd-o-no' ;  or,  Great  Hill  People. 

4.  Oneida  Nation — O-na'-yote-kd-o-no' ;  or,  Granite  People. 

5.  Cayuga  Nation —  Gwe-u'  -gweh-o-no' ;  or,  People  at  the  Mucky 
Land. 

6.  Tuscarora  Nation  —  Dus-ga'o-weh-o-no' :  or,  Shirt- Wearing 
People. 


DEB-HE-Wl-ldS.  2  17 

of  \].  of  Berkhne?  and  Oneida  now  crosses  the 

They  were  likewise  to  retain  i  pad  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, hut  wen  required  to  cede  to  the  United  State* 
their  hunting-grounds  north  of  the  Ohio,  which 

With   violent    opposition    from    many   of    the    Indian 
chiefs  and  orators,  bui  was  finally  acquiesced  In  by  the 
ril.     it  was  "ii  this  occasion  that  the  celebrated  I 
then  a  youth,  opened  the  flood-gates  of  faffs 

qnence,   and   poured   forth    its    magic    powers,   to   sustain 

the  then  gradually  declining,  yet  still  lofty  elevation  of 
his  people  ;  and  to  check  the  encroachments  of  the  whites 
on  their  territorial  demesnes,  which  Ins  prophetic  mind 
clearly  saw  would,  at  no  distant  day.  if  not  effectually 
sed,  prostrate  their  empire,  and  eradicate  their  race 
i  distinct  people. 

At  different  periods,  from  that    time  to  the  present,  the 

seyeral  nations  have  ceded  large  portions  of  their  lands  to 

this  state,  and  to  persons  holding  the  preemption  right 

under  the  government;  out  of  which,  in  most  cases,  they 

ined  for  themselves  small  reservations.     In  1797,  the 

made   by  the  Benecas   to    Robert 

Morris,  beii  extreme  western  part  of  the  state  — 

i  stensive  possessions  of  tin-  Mi: 

.all,  detached    reservations.      The  Seiieeas  in  this 

sale  (lowing  tracta:  the  Oannewagus, 

tree,  Little  Beard's,  Squawkie  Hill,  Gardeau,  and  Cane- 


248  LIFE   OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

adea,  all  lying  on  the  Genesee  River;  the  Oil  Spring, 
Alleghany,  Cattaraugus,  Buffalo  Creek,  Tonawanda  and 
Tuscarora  reservations ;  containing  in  the  whole  about 
three  hundred  and  thirty-seven  square  miles.  The  Tus- 
caroras  had  a  donation  from  the  Holland  Land  Company, 
of  two  square  miles ;  and  in  1804  they  purchased  of  the 
same  company  4,329  acres,  for  which  they  paid  $13,752, 
in  cash. 

In  1825  the  Senecas  held  a  council,  at  which  they  sold 
and  ceded  to  the  persons  claiming  the  preemption  right 
to  the  same,  all  their  reservations  on  the  Genesee  River, 
(the  Gardeau  reservation  excepted,  that  being  a  special 
concern,)  the  Oil-Spring  reservation,  and  portions  of  the 
Cattaraugus,  Buffalo  Creek,  and  Tonawanda  reservations  ; 
leaving  less  than  one  hundred  and  ninety  square  miles  in 
Alleghany,  Cattaraugus,  Buffalo  Creek,  Tonawanda,  and 
Tuscarora  reservations. 

In  1838,  another  treaty  was  held  by  the  Senecas  and 
Tuscaroras,  at  which  the  Senecas,  (or  a  portion  of  their 
chiefs,)  and  the  Tuscaroras,  agreed  to  sell  to  the  preemp- 
tion right  owners,  called  the  Ogden  Land  Company,  the 
residue  of  their  reservations  in  western  New  York,  and 
emigrate,  within  five  years,  to  other  lands,  which  they 
were  to  receive  in  exchange,  lying  in  the  Indian  territory 
west  of  the  Mississippi ;  since  which,  a  violent  warfare 
has  been  carried  on,  not  only  orally,  but  through  period- 


DEH-HK-\Ya-MI>. 

icals  and  pamphlets,  using  petitions,  memorials,  and  re- 
monstrances to  the  United  Status  government,  fin  th**ir 
heavy  artillery,  by  a  portion  of  the  Sen*-. 
ably  a  majority,)  a  few  restless  spirits  among  the  whites, 
Whfl  ftlwmya  hang  around  the  borders  of  Indian  Bettlem 
and  the  New  York,  Pennsylvania,  and  Maryland  Q 
on  the  one  hand;  who  insist  that,  although  the   j 
bribery  and  corruption  has  been  resorted  to,  the  treaty 
has  not  been  executed  in  council,  according  to  the 
and  customs  of  the   Indians,  nor  has  it  been  oonfin 
according  to  the  laws  of  the  United  States;  while  on  the 
other  hand,  the  Ogden  Land  Company,  their  ^retainers, 
and  a  portion  of  the  Senecas,  backed  by  another  class  of 
worthless  whites,  insist  that  the  treaty  has  been  formally 
uted  by  all  the  parties,  and  that  as  few  bribes  have 
bet  n  distributed  as  is  usual  an  such  occasions. 

If  the  only  object  of  the  nullifiers  was  to  procure  for 
the  Indians  an  equivalent  for  their  trouble  and  privat: 
in  making  exchange  of  lands,  their  proceedings  might  be 
justifiable;  but  they  insist  that  the  poor  Indians  shall  not 
emigrate.  It  certainly  can  not  be  of  any  great  impor- 
tance  to  the  individuals  of  this  remnant  of  the  r 
whether  they  are  removed  by  the  government,  or  whether 
they  remain  where  they  now  are;  provided, thai  in  adopt- 
either  course,  they  do  it  willingly  and  cheerfully;  and 
it  cannot  be  doubted  but  that,  if  they  had  been  left  to  the 


250  LIFE    OF    MARY   JEMISON. 

unbiased  volition  of  their  own  minds,  the  Senecas,  as  a 
body,  would  have  accepted  with  joy,  the  proposition  of 
the  government  for  their  removal. 

The  Indians  should  be  honestly  and  honorably  dealt 
with,  and  their  rights  should  be  guarded  with  vigilance, 
and  protected  with  firmness  and  effect ;  but  as  the  Unit- 
ed States  government  has  adopted  the  policy  of  inducing 
all  the  Indians,  within  the  territory  of  the  several  states, 
to  leave  their  present  abode,  and  retire,  with  the  aid,  and 
under  the  fostering  care  and  protection  of  that  govern- 
ment, to  a  country  peculiarly  adapted  to  their  wants, 
habits,  and  mode  of  life,  where  no  state  jurisdiction  can 
ever  interfere  with  their  laws,  customs,  and  peculiarities, 
it  is  the  duty  of  the  citizens  to  assist  the  government  in 
carrying  its  measures  into  effect,  as  far  as  they  can  do  so, 
honestly  and  honorably;  or  at  least,  to  remain  neutral 
in  relation  thereto,  and  not  undertake  to  thwart  the 
measures  of  government,  and  at  the  same  time  render 
the  pretended  objects  of  their  care  more  miserable  than 
they  otherwise  would  be ;  or  we  will  venture  to  predict, 
that,  notwithstanding  the  most  vigorous  exertions  of  such 
philanthropists  to  the  contrary,  the  time  is  not  far  distant, 
when  the  Genius  of  the  Empire  State  will  behold  the  last 
of  the  Iroquois  wending  his  way  toward  the  setting  sun. 


DEH-H  [S. 


\»  LUDING  NOTE. 

l  ROM  "i.i:  \<.i  i:  OF  THE  [ROQ1  0W.W 

Future    d<  :"   the    Indian  —  Wis     reclamation  —  Schools    of  tho 

nu  I  |  irty  —  Bel  turc 

■  iip  —  Their  indebtedness  to  ul'-  -  —Rights  of  pro- 

—  Duty 

oi  pie  —  Th  ..t. 

Tn  future  destiny  of  the  Indian  upon  this  oontft 

[fl  a  Bobjed  of  DO  ordinary  interest.      If  the  fact   that   lie 

ran  not  he  save  I  in  his  native  state  needed  any  proof 

perienoe  of  the  pant,  it  could  be  demonstrated 

from  the  nature  of  things.     Our  primitive  Inhabitants  are 

environed  with   civilized   life,  the   haleful   and  disastrous 
inftnence  of  which,  when  brought  in  contact  with   Indian 
ltfe,  is  wholly  irresistible.     Civilization   Kfl 
well  Sfl  DTO|  — a    positive   state   of  society,  af 

taole,  overwhelming  every  lesser  agency, 
•od  searching  out  and  filling  up  every  crevl  th  in 

the  moral  and  physiosl  world;  while  Indian  life  is  an  un- 
armed condition,  a  negative  Mate,  without  inherent  vital- 
ity, and  without  poweri  of  resistance    The  Institnl 

of  the  red  man  fix  him  to  the  BOfl  with  a  fragile  and 
i«;  K  * 


252  LIFE    OF    MARY    JEMISON. 

carious  tenure ;  while  those  of  civilized  man,  in  his  high- 
est estate,  enable  him  to  seize  it  with  a  grasp  which  de- 
fies displacement.  To  uproot  a  race  at  the  meridian  of 
its  intellectual  power,  is  next  to  impossible ;  but  the  ex- 
pulsion of  a  contiguous  one,  in  a  state  of  primitive  rude- 
ness, is  comparatively  easy,  if  not  an  absolute  necessity. 
The  manifest  destiny  of  the  Indian,  if  left  to  himself, 
calls  up  the  question  of  his  reclamation,  certainly,  in  it- 
self, a  more  interesting,  and  far  more  important  subject 
than  any  which  have  before  been  considered.  All  the 
Indian  races  now  dwelling  within  the  Republic  have  fall- 
en under  its  jurisdiction ;  thus  casting  upon  the  govern- 
ment a  vast  responsibility,  as  the  administrator  of  their 
affairs,  and  a  solemn  trust,  as  the  guardian  of  their  future 
welfare.  Should  the  system  of  tutelage  and  supervision 
adopted  by  the  national  government  find  its  highest  aim 
and  ultimate  object  in  the  adjustment  of  their  present 
difficulties  from  day  to  day,  or  should  it  look  beyond  and 
above  these  temporary  considerations,  toward  their  final 
elevation  to  the  rights  and  privileges  of  American  citi- 
zens? This  is  certainly  a  grave  question,  and  if  the  lat- 
ter enterprise  itself  be  feasible,  it  should  be  prosecuted 
with  a  zeal  and  energy  as  earnest  and  untiring  as  its  im- 
portance demands.  During  the  period  within  which  this 
question  will  be  solved,  the  American  people  can  not 
remain  indifferent  and  passive  spectators,  and  avoid  res- 


DKH-HK-Wi-lOS. 

ponsihility;  fur  whiK*  tin*  government  is  chief!_ 
ble  fof  tin'  administration  of  their  civil  affairs,  tie 

moral  and  religious  character,  which,  at  least,  arc  nut 

important,  appeal  to  the  enlightened  benevolence  of  the 
public  at  Lai 

Whether  a  portion  of  the   Indian  family  may  yet  be 

reclaimed  and  civilized,  and  thus  saved  eventually  from 

the  fate  which  has  already  befallen   su  many  of  uur  abor- 

.  will  furnish   the   theme   fur  a  few  concluding 

What    is   true   of  the    Iroquois,  in    a  general 

B,  can  he  predicted  of  any  other  portion  of  our  prim- 

inhahitants.      For  this  reason,  the   facts   relied   upon 

itablisb  the  hypothesia  that  the  Indian  can  he  perma- 

bly  reclaimed  and  civilized,  will  he  drawn  exclusively 

oial  history  of  the  former. 
There  are  now  about  four  thousand  Iroquois  living  in 
the  State  of  New  York.     Saving  for  many  yean   been 

surruunded  by  civilization,  and  shut  in  from  all  inter- 
course with  the  ruder  tribes  of  the  wilderness,  they  have 
not  <»nly  Loei  their  native  fierceness,  but  have  become 
quite  tractable  and  humane.  In  addition  to  this,  the 
ricultural  pursuits  into  which  they  have  gradually  he- 
B   initiated,   have   introduced   new   modes   of  life,   and 

ad    new  aspirations,   until    a  change,   in   i 
■oaroelj  perceptible  to  the  casual  observer,  but  in  reality 

Very  great,  has  already  been  accomplished.     At  the  pres- 


254:  LIFE   OF   MAKY   JEMISON. 

ent  moment  their  decline  has  not  only  been  arrested,  but 
they  are  actually  increasing  in  numbers,  and  improving 
in  their  social  condition.  The  proximate  cause  of  this 
universal  spectacle  is  to  be  found  in  their  feeble  attempts 
at  agriculture ;  but  the  remote  and  the  true  one  is  to  be 
discovered  in  the  schools  of  the  missionaries. 

To  these  establishments  among  the  Iroquois,  from 
the  days  of  the  Jesuit  fathers  down  to  the  present  time, 
they  are  principally  indebted  for  all  the  progress  they 
have  made,  and  for  whatever  prospect  of  ultimate  recla- 
mation their  condition  is  beginning  to  inspire.  By  the 
missionaries  they  were  taught  our  language,  and  many 
of  the  arts  of  husbandry,  and  of  domestic  life ;  from  them 
they  received  the  Bible  and  the  precepts  of  Christianity. 
After  the  lapse  of  so  many  years,  the  fruits  of  their  toil 
and  devotion  are  becoming  constantly  more  apparent : 
as,  through  years  of  slow  and  almost  imperceptible  pro- 
gress, they  have  gradually  emancipated  themselves  from 
much  of  the  rudeness  of  Indian  life.  The  Iroquois  of  the 
present  day  is,  in  his  social  condition,  elevated  far  above 
the  Iroquois  of  the  seventeenth  century.  This  fact  is 
sufficient  to  prove  that  philanthropy  and  Christianity  are 
not  wasted  upon  the  Indian;  and  further  than  this,  that 
the  Iroquois,  if  eventually  reclaimed,  must  ascribe  their 
preservation  to  the  persevering  and  devoted  efforts  of 
those  missionaries,  who  labored  for  their  welfare  when 


DEH-HB-W1-MI& 

1 1 1 « - >  injured  and  defrauded   by  the  anscropnlooj, 

neglected  by  the  civil  authorities,  and  oppressed  by  the 
multitude  Of  misfortunes  which  accelerated  their  decline. 
Then  are  but  two  means  of  reSOOing  the  Indian  fr». m 
liis  Impending  destiny;  and  these  ;tre  education  and 
Christianity.  It"  he  will  n.-.i\«-  into  his  mind  the  light 
of  knowledge,  and   tfafl   spirit  of  civilization,  he  will 

Bess,  noi  onrj   the  means  of  self-defense,  l»ut  the  power 

with  which  to  emancipate  himself  from  the  thraldom  in 
which  he  is  held.  The  frequent  attempts  which  have 
been  made  to  educate  the  Indian,  and  the  numerous  fail- 
in  which  these  attempts  have  eventuated.  ha\. 
tent;  created  a  belief  in  the  public  mind,  that  his 
education  and  reclamation  are  both  impossible.  This 
enterprise  may  still,  perhaps,  be  considered  an  experi- 
ment, and  of  uncertain  issue;  but  experience  lias  not  yet 
shown  that  it  is  hopeless  There  is  now,  in  each  Indiau 
community  in  the  state,  a  large  and  respectable  class  who 
have  become  habitual  cultivators  of  the  s,,il  ;  man 
WhOm  have  adopted    our  mode  of  life,  haV€  become  inein- 

rfonary  churches,  speak  our  language,  and 

are  I  set   and  sensible  men.     In  this 

particular  olaat  there  is  a  strong  desire  for  the  adoption 

of  the  customs  of  civilized   life,  and  more  especially 
the   education  of  their  children,  upon  which   subject  they 

often  express  tL»'  strongest  solicitude.    Among  the  youth 


256  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISOX. 

who  are  brought  up  under  such  influences,  there  exists 
the  same  desire  for  knowledge,  and  the  same  readiness  to 
improve  educational  advantages.  Out  of  this  class  Indian 
youth  may  be  selected  for  a  higher  education,  with  every 
prospect  of  success,  since  to  a  better  preparation  for  supe- 
rior advantages,  there  is  superadded  a  stronger  security 
against  a  relapse  into  Indian  life.  In  the  attempted  edu- 
cation of  their  young  men,  the  prime  difficulty  has  been 
to  render  their  attainments  permanent,  and  useful  to 
themselves.  To  draw  an  untutored  Indian  from  his 
forest  home,  and,  when  -carefully  educated,  to  dismiss  him 
again  to  the  wilderness,  a  solitary  scholar,  would  be  an 
idle  experiment ;  because  his  attainments  would  not  only 
be  unappreciated  by  his  former  associates,  but  he  would 
incur  the  hazard  of  being  despised  because  of  them.  The 
education  of  the  Indian  youth  should  be  general,  and 
chiefly  in  schools  at  home. 

A  new  order  of  things  has  recently  become  apparent 
among  the  Iroquois,  which  is  favorable  to  a  more  general 
education  at  home,  and  to  a  higher  cultivation  in  partic- 
ular instances.  The  schools  of  the  missionaries,  estab- 
lished as  they  have  been,  and  are,  in  the  heart  of  our 
Indian  communities,  have  reached  the  people  directly, 
and  laid  the  only  true  and  solid  foundation  of  their  per- 
manent improvement.  They  have  created  a  new  society 
in  the  midst  of  them,  founded  upon  Christianity ;  thereby 


i>i:ii-ni:-\VA-.Mis. 

awakening  new  desires,  creating  new  habits,  and  arousing 
new  aspirations,  In  fact,  they  have  gathered  together 
the  better  elements  of  Indian  society,  and  quiokened  them 
with  the  Light  of  religion  and  of  knowledge.  A  clasa  lias 
thus  been  gradually  formed,  which,  if  encouraged  and 

strengthened,    will    eventually    draw    over   U)   itself    that 
portion  of  cur  Indian  population  which    i 
improvement  and  elevation,  and  willing  to  make  th 
tempt    Under  the  fostering  can-  of  the  government,  both 
state  and  national,  and  under  the  still  more  efficient  tute- 
of  religio  hopes  may  be  Justly 

rtained    of   the   ultimate  and  permanent   civilization 
of  this  portion  of  the  Iroquois. 

It  is,  indeed,  a  great  undertaking  to  work  off  the  Indian 
temper  of  mind,  and  infuse  that  of  another  race.  It  is 
necessary, to  its  accomplishment,  to  commence  in  infancy, 
and  at  the  missionary  school,  where  our  lang  t  is  sub- 
stituted for  the  Indian  language,  our  religion  for  the 
Indian  mythology,  and  our  amusements  and  mode  of  life 
for  theirs.  When  this  has  been  effected,  and  op 
mind  thus  prepared  has  been  shed  the  light  of  a  higher 
knowledge,  there  is  not  even  then  a  firm  assurance  that 
the   Indian  nature   is  forever  suhdued,  and   Submerged   in 

that  superior  one  which  civilization  create-.     In  the 
depths  et'  Indian  society  there  is  a  spirit  and  a  sentiD 

to  which   their  minds   are  attuned  by  nai 


258  LIFE   OF  MARY  JEMISON. 

must  be  the  power,  and  constant  the  influence,  which  can 
overcome  the  one,  or  eradicate  the  other. 

In  the  education  of  the  Iroquois,  New  York  has  re- 
cently made  a  commencement.  Prior  to  1846  our  Indian 
youth  were  excluded  from  the  benefits  of  the  common 
school  fund ;  their  want  of  preparation  for  such  schools 
furnishing,  to  some  extent,  a  sufficient  reason.  At  that 
time  schools  were  first  opened  among  them  under  appro- 
priations from  the  public  fund.  These  schools  have  not 
met  with  encouraging  success ;  but  their  efficiency  would 
have  been  much  greater  if  they  had  been  organized  upon 
the  boarding-school  or  missionary  plan,  instead  of  that 
of  the  common  school.  The  former  is  the  more  prac- 
ticable and  successful  system  of  Indian  education ;  and 
it  is  greatly  to  be  hoped  that  it  will  soon  be  adopted. 
To  meet  the  growing  demand  for  a  higher  education,  the 
State  Normal  School,  within  the  past  year,  has  not  only 
been  opened  to  a  limited  number  of  Indian  youth,  but  a 
sufficient  appropriation  made  for  their  maintenance  while 
improving  its  advantages.  These  two  important  events 
form  an  interesting  era  with  the  modern  Iroquois.  It 
remains  only  to  give  them  permanent  boarding-schools  at 
home  for  the  instruction  of  the  mass  of  their  youth,  with 
access  to  the  Normal  School  for  their  advanced  scholars, 
and  in  a  few  years  they  will  rise  in  the  scale  of  intelli- 
gence, as  far  above  their  present  level,  as  their  fathers 


il  then.  In  the  days  of  aboriginal  oty, 

above  the  tore!  i  mporary  nation 

In  addition  to  the  special  claim  which  the  residu< 
the   [roqnoifl  have  upon  the  people  of  the  stsfc 
principle  of  philanthropy  pleads  for  the  encouragement 
of  ihcir  young  men  In  their  efforts  t<>  obtain  ■  higher 

course  Of  inslruclion  than   the  limited  earning!  of  Indian 

husbandry  can  afford.    The  time  has  come,  in  their  social 

progress,  when  they  are  capable  of  a  thorough  intellectual 

training,  and   are  able  to  achieve  as    high   and   accurate  a 
scholarship   as    many    of    their   white    competitors.     The 

time  has  also  arrived  when   academical   attainments  will 

prove  i  blessing  to  thei  and  to  their  families.     1.. 

thr  diffusion  of  knowledge  among  them,  the  way  will  be 

facilitated  for  the   introduction  of  the  mechanic  arts,  and 

for  their  improvement  in  agricultural  pursuits.    A  small 

!  of  educated  VOUUg   men   in  each    Indian  community 
would    find    suffioienl    employment    for  their   acquired 

Capacities,   in   the   various   stations   of  teacher,  physician, 
DSniOi    and    fanner;    in   each   and    all   of    which    they 

id  greatly  promote  tin-  general  welfare.    If  the  d< 
for  improvement, which  now  prevails  among  them,  is  met 

and  encouraged,  it  will  require  hut  a  few  years  to  initiate 

them   into  the  arts  of  civili/ed   life,  and   to   prepare  them 

eventually  for  ■  ing  those  rights  of  property, 

righ'.~   of  citizenship,  which   are  common  b 


260  LIFE    OF    MARY    JEMISON. 

How  much  more  noble  for  the  state  to  reclaim  and  save 
this  interesting  and  peculiar  portion  of  her  people,  than 
to  accelerate  their  extinction  by  injustice ;  or  to  abandon 
them  to  their  fate,  when  they  are  struggling  to  emancipate 
themselves  by  taking  into  their  hands  the  implements  of 
agriculture,  and  opening  their  minds  to  the  light  of 
knowledge. 

There  is  no  want  of  sympathy  for  their  welfare  among 
the  people  of  New  York ;  on  the  contrary,  there  is  a 
wide-spread  and  deep-seated  interest  in  their  future  recla- 
mation. Whatever  can  be  done  to  ameliorate  their  con- 
dition, and  encourage  that  portion  who  have  commenced 
the  work  of  their  own  improvement,  would  receive  the 
warmest  commendation.  If  the  Indian  puts  forth  his 
hand  for  knowledge,  he  asks  for  the  only  blessing  which 
we  can  give  him  in  exchange  for  his  birthright  which  is 
worthy  of  his  acceptance. 

The  education  and  Christianization  of  the  Iroquois  is 
a  subject  of  too  much  importance,  in  a  civil  aspect,  to  be 
left  exclusively  to  the  limited  and  fluctuating  means  of 
religious  societies.  The  schools  established  and  sustained 
among  them  by  private  benevolence,  are,  to  the  Indian, 
almost  the  same  as  common  schools  to  our  own  people ; 
and  without  them  the  Indian  would,  in  times  past,  have 
been  denied  all  means  of  instruction.  These  schools 
bring  together  the  youth    for  elementary  tuition,  as  a 


DEH-HE-WA-MW.  g  .1 

necessary  preparation  for  moral  and  religions  traini 

"While  there,  thej  adopt,  in  all  r<  the  habits  of 

civilized  life,  are  taught  our  language,  and  tb<  sim- 

ple elementary  studies.  In  so  r.ir,  it  would  be  hut  a  just 
act  of  public  beneficence  to  allow  those  pupils  to  draw 
the  same  share  of  public  money  which  falls  to  the  other 

children  of  the  slate.  A  S\  Btem  of  public  Indian  educa- 
tion, apon  Buch  a  plan  as  their  circumstances  demand, 
should  either  he  adopted  by  the  state,  or  a  portion  of 
the  pnblie  money  bearing  some  proportion  to  tin-  number 

of  Indian  pupils,  should   he   placed  at  the  disposal  of  the 

local  missionary,  to  he  expended  with  an  equal  portion 
contributed  by  private  benevolence,  or  by  the  [ndians 
themselves.  It  is  time  that  our  Indian  youth  were  re- 
garded, in  all  respects,  as  a  pail  of  the  children  of  the 
state,  and  brought  under  such  a  Bystem  of  tutelage 

that  relation  would  impose. 

The  Vasl  extent   of  the  rele/lolis  enterprises  of  the   ! 

ent  day  has  tended  to  draw  the  attention  of  the  Christian 
world  away  from  the  Indian,  into  fields   more  distant, 
perhaps  more   attractive.      During  the   past    sixty   y< 
the  [roquois  have  received  hut  a  small  share  of  the  Ohris- 
watchfulneSS    to    which     their    wants    entitle    them. 

r     hful  and  zealous  missionaries,  it  is  true,  have  lah 
among  them,  producing  result  sr  than 

rally  believed;  hut  the  inadequate  scale  upon  which  t] 


262  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISOX. 

missions  were  organized,  and  the  fluctuations  in  their  effi- 
ciency, which  were  inseparable  from  their  irregular  and 
limited  supplies,  have  prevented  them  from  earning  for- 
ward their  work  to  its  full  cempletion.  But  whatever  has 
been  done,  is  chiefly  to  be  ascribed  to  them,  and  to  the 
denominations  which  they  represent. 

Too  much  can  not  be  said  of  the  teachableness  of  the 
Indian,  and  of  his  aptitude  to  learn,  when  subjected  to 
systematic  discipline.  If  the  same  means,  and  the  same 
influences  which  are  employed  to  educate  and  elevate  the 
mass  of  our  own  people,  and  without  the  constant  appli- 
cation of  which,  they  themselves  would  soon  fall  into  ig- 
norance, were  brought  to  bear  upon  our  Indian  popula- 
tion, they  would  rise  under  it  with  a  rapidity  which 
would  excite  both  surprise  and  admiration.  Instances  are 
not  wanting  among  the  present  Iroquois,  of  attainments 
in  scholarship  which  would  do  credit  to  any  student. 
To  give  employment  to  those  Indian  youth  whose  ac- 
quired capacities  would  enable  them  to  fill  stations  of 
trust  and  profit  among  ourselves,  is  another  species  of 
encouragement  which  commends  itself  to  the  generous 
mind.  Both  in  our  civil  and  social  relations  with  the  red 
men,  we  regard  them  as  a  distinct  and  separate  class  ; 
when  in  each  of  these  relations  they  should  not  only  be 
regarded  as  our  fellow-men,  but  as  a  part  of  our  own  peo- 
ple.   Born  upon  the  soil,  the  descendants  of  its  ancient 


M.II-i:  [Ig. 

proprietors,  then  It  do  principle  whi  h  Bbonld  make  then 
aliens  in  the  land  of  their  nativity,  or  exclude  them  from 
any  of  those  advantages  which  are  reserved  to  oursel 

-      ir  as  they  ar<-  able  to  appreciate  and  enjoy  the 
privileges  which  pertain  to  the  mass  of  the  people,  the 
claim  for  participation  which  their  situation  silently  puts 
forth  Bhonld  not  be  disregarded. 

The  lands  of  the  [roquois  are  still  held  in  common,  the 
title  being  voted  in  the  people.    Their  prog  raid 

a  higher  agricultural  life  has  rendered  this  ancient  tenure 
iroe  of  inconvenience;  although  they  are  not  as  yefl 
prepared  for  their  division  among  the  people.  Each  indi- 
vidual can  improve  and  inclose  any  portion  of  their  com- 
mon domain,  and  sell  or  retain  such  improvements,  in  the 
same  manner  as  with  personal  property  ;  hut  they  have 
no  power  to  transfer  the  title  to  the  land  to  each  other,  or 
to  strangers.  A- . ,  riy  i  -  the  rei,Lrn  of  James  the  Second, 
the  riLrht  of  pujrchasing  Indian  lands  was  made  a  govern- 
ment right  exclusively,  by  royal  proclamation j  and  it 
proved  such  a  necessary  shield  <■  the  rapacity  ol 

that  this  humane  provision  Lb  still  retained 
law  in  all  the  states  of  the  Dnlon,  and  by  the  national 
rnment.     When  the  Iroquois  reach  such  a  stable  p">i- 

iculturists,  a-  to  make  it  safe  to  divide  their 

land-  among  the  several  remittee  of  each  nation,  with  the 
power  of  alienation,  it  will  give  to  them  that   stimulus 


264  LIFE    OF    MARY   JEMISON. 

and  ambition  which  separate  rights  of  property  are  so  well 
calculated  to  produce.  The  present  system  has  at  least 
the  merit  of  saving  all  the  people  from  poverty  and  va- 
grancy, if  it  does  not  enable  a  portion  of  them  to  become 
thrifty  and  substantial  agriculturists.  The  first  step 
towards  the  amelioration  of  their  condition  in  this  par- 
ticular, would  be  a  division  among  themselves,  with  the 
power  of  alienation  to  each  other,  under  such  restrictions 
as  would  be  adapted  to  the  case.  This  would  serve  to 
prepare  the  way  for  other  changes,  until  finally  they  could 
be  restored,  with  safety  to  themselves,  not  only  to  the 
full  possession  of  those  rights  of  property  which  are 
common  to  ourselves,  but  also  to  the  rights  and  privi- 
leges of  citizens  of  the  state.  When  this  time  arrives, 
they  will  cease  to  be  Indians,  except  in  name. 

The  progressive  elevation  of  our  Indian  population, 
here  indicated,  if  carried  to  a  successful  result,  would 
save  but  a  portion  of  the  Indian  family ;  but  that  portion 
would  become,  in  every  respect,  as  useful  and  respect- 
able as  any  other  portion  of  our  people.  They  would 
neither  be  wanting  in  ability,  or  morality,  or  public  spirit ; 
and  perhaps  it  is  not  too  much  to  conjecture,  that  specimens 
of  the  highest  genius,  and  of  the  most  conspicuous  talent, 
hereafter  destined  to  figure  in  the  civil  history  of  our 
republic,  may  spring  from  the  ranks  of  the  Indian  citizens. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  they  are  left,  unencouraged  and 


I » i : 1 1- 1 1 1:-\\  i-MJB. 

una-  to  sin;-  insl  i heir  adverse 

move  fatal  still,  if  they  arc  subjected  to  i  false  and  unjust 
superintendence,  the  whole  Indian  family  will 
ere  long  fade  away,  and  finally  become  enshrouded  in  tin* 
sair.'  in  which   the   nu 

;      land  li«'  entombed. 

The  present  Bystem  of  national  supervision  is  evi- 
dently temporary  in  its  plan  and  purposes,  and  i 
lor  the  administration  of  our  Indian  affairs  with  the  least 
lible  inconvenience,  rather  than  fur  their  ultimate 
reclamation,  to  be  followed  by  the  bestowmenl  of  citizen- 
ship.      It    carries,   upon   all    its    features,   the   in. 

that  the  presence  of  the  Indian  npon  this  continent  is 
temporary  ;  and  that  he  must  inevitably  surrender  tho 
remainder  df  hi  Bsions,  when  he  dial!  havener 

surrounded  by  the  white  man,  and  the  bui 
in  for  the  i  i  apitulation.    The  sentiment  which 

tem  proclain  I  as  emphatic  as  that  embla- 

d  upon  the  Ron  icy  toward  the  Carthaginians  — 

\ago  est  (hhrtdd,  —  "Carthage  must  be  destroy! 
but  it  reads  in  do<  less  Bignificant  charaotera —  T 

/  im'i nation.     This  sent iuient,  whiell 

is  so  wi<  i  as  to  have  h  neral  theme  for 

Bchoolboy  declamation,  is  not  only  founded  upon  errone- 
ous views,  hut  it  has  been  prejudicial  to  the  Indian  him- 
self.    If,  then,  public  opinion  and  the  national  policy  uru 
12 


266  LIFE   OF   MARY   JEMISOX. 

both  wrong  upon  these  great  questions,  or  if  there  are  even 
strong  grounds  for  suspecting  them  to  be  so,  it  becomes 
an  act  of  justice,  as  well  as  of  duty,  to  correct  the  one,  and 
change  the  other.    Our  Indian  relations,  from  the  founda- 
tion of  the  republic  to  the  present  moment,  have  been 
administered  with  reference  to  the  ultimate  advantage  of 
the   government    itself;    while   the   reclamation   of  the 
Indian  has  been  a  secondary  object,  if  it  ever  entered  into 
the  calculation  in  the  slightest  degree.    Millions  of  money, 
it  is  true,  have  been  expended,  and  some  show  of  justice 
preserved  in  their  complicated  affairs  ;  but  in  all  promi- 
nent negotiations  the  profit  has  been  on  the  side  of  the 
government,  and  the  loss  on  that  of  the  Indian.   In  addition 
to  this,  instances  of  sharp-sighted  diplomacy,  of  ungenerous 
coercion,  and  of  grievous  injustice,  are  to  be  found  in  the 
journal  of  our  Indian  transactions  —  a  perpetual  stigma 
upon  the  escutcheon  of  our  republic.     If  references  are 
demanded  to   the  paragraphs,  the  reader  may  turn   to 
that  upon  the  Seminoles,  or  to  the  Georgia   Cherokee 
treaty,  executed  by  the   government,   or   to   the   more 
recent  treaties  with  the  Iroquois  themselves,  in  which  the 
government  bartered  away  its  integrity,  to  minister  to 
the  rapacious  demands  of  the  Ogden  Land  Company. 

Jefferson  made  the  civilization  of  the  Indian  a  subject 
of  profound  consideration,  and  a  favorite  element  of  the 
national  policy  during  his  administration.     Washington 


DEH-HB-WA-HI& 

at  a  still  earlier  period,  regarded  the  future  welfare  of  the 
Indian  with  deep  solicitude.     In  founding  the  first  system 

tercoursc  end  superintendence,  he  wu  guided  by  tho 
moat  enlightened  principles  of  justice  and  benevoli 
and  to  rach  a  degree  were  tin-  [roquois,  in  particular,  iiu- 
with  the  goodness  and  beneficence  of  Ids  oharacter, 
thai  they  nut  only  bestowed  upon  1dm.  in  common  with 
other  Indian  nations,  the appelation  of  Father,  but  i<»  this 
day  he  is  kn<»wn  among  theiii  as  "The  Great  American." 
The  rive  Bpirii  of  the  people,  however,  in  connection 

with  the  Blight  estimation  in  which  Indian  rights  were  held, 

v.r  been  found  too  powerful  an  element  to  be  stayed. 
It  has  had  free  ooursc  during  the  last  sixty  yean,  until 
the  whole  territory  east  of  the  Mississippi,  with  incon- 
siderable exceptions,  has  been  swept  from  the  Indian. 
This  fart  renders  any  argument  superfluous,  to  show, 
that  within  this  period  the  reclamation  and  preservation 

of  tie-  n-d   man  has   formed   no   part  of  the  public  policy. 

But  within  th<-  same  period  the  moral  elements  of 
i  ty  have  hem  developed  and  strengthened  to  such  a 
• »-  as   t»  work  a  change  in  public  sentiment     a 

kindlier  feeling  toward  the  Indian  is  everywhere  appa- 
rent, Joined  with  an  unwillingness  to  allow  him  t<>  be 

urged  into  further  extremities.    He  has  been  sufficiently 

the  victim  of  adverse  fortune,  to  he  entitled    I"  a  donbk 

17 


26S  LIFE    OF   MARY   JEMISON. 

portion  .  of  the  interest  and  assistance  of  the  philan- 
thropist; and  a  new  day,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  has  already 
dawned  upon  his  prospects. 

It  can  not  be  forgotten,  that  in  after  years  our  republic 
must  render  an  account  to  the  civilized  world,  for  the 
disposal  which  it  makes  of  the  Indian.  It  is  not  suffi- 
cient, before  this  tribunal,  to  plead  inevitable  destiny ; 
but  it  must  be  shown  affirmatively,  that  no  principles  of 
justice  were  violated,  no  efforts  were  omitted,  and  no 
means  were  left  untried,  to  rescue  them  from  their  peril- 
ous position.  After  all  has  been  accomplished  which  the 
utmost  efforts  of  philanthropy,  and  the  fullest  dictates  of 
wisdom  can  suggest,  there  will  still  be  sufficient  to  la- 
ment, in  the  unpropitious  fate  of  the  larger  portion  of 
the  Indian  family.  It  is  the  great  office  of  the  American 
people,  first,  to  shield  them  against  future  aggression, 
and  then  to  mature  such  a  system  of  supervision  and  tu- 
telage as  will  ultimately  raise  them  from  the  rudeness  of 
Indian  life,  and  prepare  them  for  the  enjoyment  of  those 
rights  and  privileges  which  are  common  to  ourselves. 

To  the  Indian  Department  of  the  National  government 
the  wardship  of  the  whole  Indian  family  is,  in  a  great 
measure,  committed ;  thus  placing  it  in  a  position  of  high 
responsibility.  If  any  discrimination  could  be  made  be- 
tween the  several  departments  of  the  government,  this 


DEH-HK-W  A-MIS.  269 

should  be  guided  by  the  most   enlightened  justice,  the 
nsSdentte  philanthropy.     Great   li  the  trust  re- 

1,  far  it  involves  the  character  of  the  whit*'  race,  and 

the   existence  of   the    red.      May  it    ever  be    quickened  to 
duty  by  I   vivid   impression   of  its   responsibilities,  and 

never  violate,  for  any  consideration,  the  sacred  trust  com- 
mitted to  its  charge. 


APPENDIX. 


APT  i:  N  D  IX. 


I. 

TRAGEDY  OF  THE  DEVIL'S  HOLE. 

i;y  BBBNBZBB  Ml  \.  BSQ. 

Thi  author  and  oompQei  of  the  first  edition  of  this 
work  took  much  pain*  to  procure  a  oorreoi  statement  of 
this  transaction,  as  its  details  had  never  before  been  pub- 
lished. He  procured  the  statement  of  Jesse  "Ware,  then 
a  resident  at  Fort  Schloaser  —  an  aged  man,  who,  after 
the  occurrence,  had  been  for  a  long  time  an  intimate 
friend  and  boon  companion  of  William  Stedman,  the 
principal,  if  not  the  only  person  of  the  English  party,  who 
escaped  this  horrible  massacre  with  life.  This  statement 
an  to  hare  awakened  inquiry,  by  which  some  erron 
bave  been  detected,  and  some  new  information  obtained; 
therefore,  we  gire  a  remodeled  statement  of  the  affair, 

.  all  the  materials  now  in  our  PQHOBiion. 

bee  forts  Niagara  and  Schloeser  were  taken  from  the 
French  by  the   British,  in  July,  L750,  Bir  William  J. dm- 


274  APPENDIX. 

son,  the  British  commander,  made  a  contract  with  Wil- 
liam Stedman  to  construct  a  portage  road  from  Lewiston 
landing  to  Fort  Schlosser,  the  distance  of  eight  miles,  to 
facilitate  the  transportation  of  provisions  and  military 
stores  from  one  place  to  the  other,  and  superintend  the 
transportation  of  the  same. 

On  the  20th  of  June,  1763,  Mr.  Stedman,  in  conformity 
to  his  agreement,  having  finished  the  road,  started,  for  the 
first  time,  with  twenty- five  loaded  wagons,  from  Lewiston 
to  Fort  Schlosser. 

Sir  William  Johnson,  being  suspicious  of  the  integrity 
of  the  Seneca  Indians,  although  the  French  war  was  then 
ended,  and  amnesty  between  all  parties,  the  Six  Nations 
included,  reciprocally  declared,  detached  a  party  of  fifty 
soldiers,  with  their  officers,  to  escort  Mr.  Stedman's 
party.  The  Seneca  Indians,  who,  from  their  late 
allies,  the  French,  had  imbibed  an  inveterate  hatred 
against  the  English,  watched  the  progress  of  the  con- 
struction of  the  road,  and  were  determined  to  nip  in  the 
bud  the  first  attempt  to  use  it ;  as  they  considered  it  a 
trespass  on  their  premises,  and  an  infringement  on  their 
rights.  By  means  of  their  friendly  intercourse  with  the 
English,  they  easily  ascertained  the  time  the  first  attempt 
would  be  made  to  cross  the  portage  with  teams.  They 
accordingly  congregated  their  whole  force  at  that  time, 
and  lay  in  ambush  on  the  Niagara  River,  about  half-way 


APPENDIX.  275 

between  Lewiston  and  Fort  Schlosser.  At  this  place  the 
road  approaches  within  ■  fa w  feel  of  the  edge  of  the  pre- 
cipice, at  an  acute-angle  in  the  eastern  bank  of  the  river, 
which  descends  from  eighty  to  a  hundred  feet  almost 
perpendicularly,  into  a  hideous-looking  dell,  called  the 
Devil's  Hole. 

As  soon  as  the  British  transportation  party  arrived  at 
this  place,  the  Indians  sullied  from  their  ambuscade,  in- 
closed the  whole  body  of  the  English,  and  either  killed  on 
the  spot,  or  drove  off  the  banks,  every  soldier,  officer, 
teamster,  and  assistant,  amounting  to  near  one  hundred 
men,  together  with  their  horses,  carriages,  loading,  and 
every  thing  else  pertaining  to  the  expedition,  except  Mr. 
Stedman,  the  superintendent,  who  was  on  horseback. 

A  robust  and  gigantic  Indian  seized  Mr.  Stedman's 
horse  by  the  bridle  reins,  and  was  leading  him  east  to  the 
woods,  through  the  scene  of  deadly  strife,  probably  foi 
the  purpose  of  devoting  him  to  the  more  excruciating  tor- 
ments of  a  sacrifice  ;  but,  while  the  captor's  attention  was 
drawn  in  another  direction  for  a  moment.  Stedman,  with 
his  knife,  cut  the  bridle  reins  near  the  bits,  at  the  same 
time  thrusting  his  spurs  into  the  flanks  of  his  well-trained 
charger,  rode  east  into  the  forest  —  being  the  target  of 
hundreds  of  Indian  rifles,  aimed  at  his  person  and  flying 
■!,  from  which  neither  he  nor  his  horse  received  the  least 

injury.     He  continued  his  course  east  about  two  miles, 

L 


276  APPENDIX. 

where  he  struck  Gill  creek,  which  he  followed  down  to  its 
mouth,  and  then  down  the  bank  of  the  Niagara  River  to 
Fort  Schlosser. 

From  all  the  accounts  of  this  barbarous  transaction, 
Mr.  Stedman  was  the  only  person  belonging  to  his  party 
who  was  not  either  driven  or  thrown  off  into  the  Devil's 
Hole.  Tradition  has  transmitted  to  us  various  accounts 
of  the  fate  of  some  few  others  of  the  party ;  that  is,  that 
one,  two,  or  three  others  escaped  with  life,  after  being 
driven  off  the  bank,  although  badly  wounded  and  maimed 
by  the  fall.  Most  of  the  accounts  agree  in  the  escape  of 
a  little  drummer,  who  was  caught,  while  falling,  in  the 
limb  of  a  tree,  by  his  drumstrap,  from  which  he  extricated 
himself,  and  descended  the  body  of  the  tree  to  the  ground. 
The  account  of  this  escape  is  the  most  to  be  relied  on, 
because  the  most  probable.  Pieces  of  the  wreck  of  this 
expedition  are  to  be  found  at  the  bottom  of  the  Devil's 
Hole  at  the  present  day. 

As  no  attempt  was  made  by  the  Indians,  in  this  affair, 
except  in  the  case  of  Stedman,  to  take  prisoners,  scalp 
the  dead,  or  procure  plunder,  it  appears  that  those  minor 
objects  were  entirely  merged  in  the  more  exalted  pursuit, 
(according  to  their  views,)  of  destruction,  blood,  and 
carnage. 

The  escape  of  Mr.  Stedman,  not  only  from  the  iron 
grasp  of  one  of  their  most  athletic  and  powerful  warriors, 


APPENDIX.  :J77 

Imt  from  tlic  shown  of  rifle  halls  discharged  si  him  from 
the  ritlt-s  of  their  best  and  most  unerring  marksmen,  oon- 
fonnded  the  Indians  with  wonder  and  tVur,  rurnishii 
subject  whereon  to  feed  their  most  absnrdi  snperstitioni 
whims.    They  at  once  pronounced  him  s  favorite  of  the 
Great  spirit ;  snd  t<>  sppease  its  wrath,  made  Btedman  a 
•  nt  of  til.-  bract  "i"  land  In-  had  encompassed  in  liis 
retreat  t.>  Fori  Bchlosser;  to  wit, beginning  at  the  Devil's 
Hole;  thence  running  east,  to  Gill  creek;  thence  south- 
erly, down  the  creek,  to  tin-  Niagara  River;  thence  i 
down  the  river,  to  Niagara   Falls;  and  thence  northerly, 
still  bounding  en  the  river,  to  the  place  of  beginni 
being  a  tract  about  two  miles  wide,  and  three  and  a  halt' 
miles  long.      But  neither  the  British  government,  nor  the 

United  States,  or  either  of  the  states,  has  ratified  or  con- 
firmed that  gift ;  although  Jesse  Ware,  claiming  under 
Stednian,  has,  for  a  number  of  years  in  succession, 
sailed  our  legislative  halls  for  the  land,  or  some  remune- 
ration therefor.  Nor  does  it  appear  that  even  the  Indians 
themselves,  after  the  excitement  produced  by  the  tr 

action  had  subsided,  recognized  any  validity  in  Stedman's 

title:   for  tin-  next   year,   1764,  they  ceded   tin-  same  tract, 
her    with    other    land-,    extending    north    to     Lake 
Ontario,  to  the  king  of  (ireat  Britain,  for  a  oanying-plaOi 
around  the  Tails  of  Niagara. 


278  APPENDIX. 


II. 

GENERAL   SULLIVAN'S   EXPEDITION  TO 
WESTERN  NEW  YORK. 

During  the  years  1777  and  1778,  the  warriors  of  the 
Six  Nations,  the  greater  portion  of  the  Oneidas  excepted, 
bribed  by  British  gold,  clothing,  rum,  and  gewgaws,  and 
impelled  by  their  natural  thirst  for  blood  —  entirely  dis- 
regarding all  former  treaties  and  pledges  —  attacked  and 
laid  waste  the  north-western  frontier  settlements  of  New 
York  and  Pennsylvania.  Their  footsteps  were  indelibly 
marked  with  the  tomahawk  and  ihe  scalping-knife,  with- 
out regard  to  age,  sex,  or  conditiou ;  and  the  destruction 
of  all  property  on  which  the  firebrand  or  rifle-ball  could 
be  made  to  take  effect  —  as  the  valley  of  Wyoming,  the 
fields  of  Cherry  Valley,  and  the  banks  of  the  Mohawk, 
bore  melancholy  testimony. 

It  became  necessary  for  the  safety,  if  not  for  the  very 
existence  of  our  border  settlements,  that  these  hired  plun- 
derers, incendiaries,  and  assassins  should  receive  a  signal 
chastisement  for  their  predatory  and  barbarous  incursions ; 


APPENDIX* 

not  only  as  an  act  of  retributive  justice,  bill  to  deprive 
them  of  the  means  of  repeating  these  atrocities.  To 
effect  tins  grand  desideratum,  in  the  spring  of  L779  mea- 
sures weft-  taken  to  destroy  their  abodes  and  their  means 
of  subsistence  —  drive  them  from  their  retreats  to  more  re- 
mote regions,  and  strike  them  with  terror  at  the  extermi- 
nating principles  of  the  mode  of  warfare  adopted;  this 
being  decided  to  be  the  only  means  of  Bubduing,  or  even 
Crippling  the  strength  of  a  faithless  toe,  whose  treaties 
are  made  only  to  he  broken,  and  who  are  seldom  to  be 
Caught  or  found,  except  when,  for  motives   of  advantage, 

they  choose  to  stay  or  to  reveal  themselv< 

As  no  connected  account  of  this  transaction,  in  detail, 
has  ever  been  published,  to  our  knowledge,  we  are  under 
the  necessity  of  culling  from  all  the  sources  now  access- 
ible, the  most  authentic  materials  to  form  a  connected 
narrative.  For  these  materials,  we  acknowledge  our- 
selves  indebted  to  Marshall's  Life  of  Washington,  the 
British  Annual  Register,  the  EncvcloptBdis  Americana, 
the  Researches  of  De  Witt  Clinton,  Washington's  Letters, 

the    Statement  of  .John    Salmon.  Esq.,  late  of  GfOVeland, 

Livingston    comity,  X.    Y.,  who  was   orderly    sergeant   in 

the  rifle  company  commanded  by  ('apt.  Michael  Simpson 
and    Lieut.  Thomas    Boyd,  forming    part    of   Bullivaa*! 

army;    and  last,  although  not  least,  the  statements  of  (,ur 


260  APPENDIX. 

worthy  friend  Major  Moses  Van  Campen,  who  bore  a 
conspicuous  part  in  the  battle  which  took  place  on  the 
Tioga,  and  now  resides  as  a  retired  gentleman,  in  the 
valley  of  the  Genesee. 

The  original  plan  of  this  important  campaign  was,  that 
the  country  of  the  Six  Nations  should  be  entered  by 
three  divisions  of  the  army  at  the  same  time.  The  prin- 
cipal body,  composed  of  generals  Maxwell,  Hand,  and 
Poor's  brigades,  together  with  a  train  of  artillery,  the 
whole  consisting  of  about  three  thousand  men,  to  rendez- 
vous at  Wyoming  under  the  immediate  command  of 
Major  General  Sullivan ;  from  whence  to  march  up  the 
Susquehanna,  and  enter  the  heart  of  the  territory  of  the 
Six  Nations,  occupied  by  the  Senecas  and  Cayugas.  The 
second  division,  composed  of  General  Clinton's  command 
of  about  fifteen  hundred,  who  had  wintered  at  Schoharie, 
were  to  ascend  the  valley  of  the  Mohawk,  pass  through 
the  territories  of  the  Oneidas,  as  they  had  adhered 
to  the  treaty  of  neutrality,  and  attack  and  lay  waste 
the  settlements  of  the  Tuscaroras  and  Onondagas; 
after  which  they  were  to  join  Gen.  Sullivan  in'the  Genesee 
country;  and  the  third  division,  consisting  of  between 
five  and  six  hundred  men,  under  the  command,  of  Colonel 
Brodhead,  to  march  from  Pittsburgh  up  the  Alleghany, 
and  after  laying  waste  the  Seneca  villages  and  settle- 


APPENDIX. 

incuts  on  that  river,  lik  o  Join  General  Sullivan,  if 

ry. 
the  troops  destined  for  the  grand  expedition 
been  pal  in  motion,  owing  to  tome  anfbrtanatc  oirconv 

as,  an  enterprise  of  less  extent  was  projected  b    i 
ral  Bchnyler,  and  its  execution  carried  Into  efted  with 
m.    On  the  nineteenth  <»f  April.  Colonel 
Scheie]  ted  by  Lieutenant-Colonel  Wilh-t  and 

Major  Cochran,  at  the  bead  of  between  five  and  six  hun- 
dred smb.,  marched  from  Fori  Bchnyler,  (Utica,)  amj^on 
third  day  reached  and  surprised  the  Onondaga  Indian 
settlements.     In  the  first   village  which  they  attacked, 

killed  twelve  Indians,  and  made  thirty-four  pri 
including   cue  white   man;    tins  giving  the  alarm,  the 
Indians  deserted    the  other  villages,  extending    ov< 
large  territory,  and  fled  to  the  woods.     The   party  then, 
without  molestation, bnrned  all  their boUdings, provisions, 
and  other  combustible  property  in  tin-  several  villi 
killed   their  horsr<,  cattle,  and   other   stock,    and  ut; 

■d      the    whole      set  t  lenient .         With    BUCfl    preeipi- 

bad  the  Indiane  fled  from  their  villages,  that  they 
about  a  hundred  lines  and  gnni  in  theirhooses.    The 
party  having  finished  their  work  of  destruction,  retut 

to  Fori  Bchnyler  On   tin-  sixth   day,  without  the   h>>>  of  a 
man. 

'1  he  eastern  division  of  the  army,  under  the  command 


252  APPENDIX. 

of  General  Clinton,  marched  to  Schenectady  in  the  month 
of  May,  and  proceeded  up  the  Mohawk  in  boats,  over- 
awing and  putting  to  flight  the  remnant  of  the  Mohawks, 
who  were  still  hanging  around  their  native  valley.  But 
in  consequence  of  the  principal  object  of  their  being  as- 
signed to  that  route,  the  destruction  of  the  Onondaga  settle- 
ments, having  been  accomplished  by  the  enterprise  of 
Colonel  Van  Schaick  and  his  party,  on  their  arrival  at  Can- 
ajoharie,  General  Clinton  received  orders  from  Major-Gene- 
ral jjullivan,  under  whose  command  he  was,  to  march  his 
division  to  Otsego  Lake,  provide  boats,  and  make  other 
preparations  to  descend  the  eastern  branch  of  the  Susque- 
hanna River,  and  meet  him  at  Tioga  Point  when  after- 
ward directed.  Agreeable  to  orders,  Gen.  Clinton  marched 
his  division  to  Otsego  Lake,  provided  two  hundred  and 
eight  boats,  and  necessary  provision,  threw  a  dam  across 
the  outlet,  thereby  raising  the  water  in  the  lake  two  feet  or 
over,  to  enable  him,  when  he  pleased,  to  cause  a  freshet 
in  the  river,  to  float  his  boats  down  with  the  greater 
rapidity  and  safety.  He  then  waited  for  further  orders. 
The  main  army,  which  rendezvoused  at  TTyoming, 
under  the  command  of  General  Sullivan,  for  the  want  of 
supplies,  and  by  reason  of  other  adverse  circumstances, 
did  not  leave  that  place  until  the  last  of  July,  when  it 
marched  to  Tioga  Point,  where,  on  the  22d  of  August,  it 
was  joined  by  the  eastern  division  under  General  Clinton. 


APPENDIX. 

Alter  the  junction  of  the  two  di\:  ral  Sullivan 

ned  the  oommand  In  chief,  haying,  for  hfti  bnmedlate 

subordinates,  generals  OUntOD,  Maxwell,  Poor,  and  Hand, 

and  Major  Parr,  of  the  rifle  oorpa. 
Genera]  Sullivan  then  marched  Dp  the  'l  logo  Etiver  m 

search   of  the   enemy,  who,   he    had   ascertained,  were   in 

•am  force,  at  no  great  distance  on  that  route.  On  the 
29th  ofAnguat,  at  n  o'clock,  a.m..  the  enemy  was  dis- 
hy the  ran-guard,  about  one  mile  below  Newton, 
(now  Klmira.)  The  whole  force  that  the  enemy  were 
able  to  collect,  amonnting,  according  to  Sullivan's  acconnt, 

t<»   fifteen    hnndred,   Of    Whom    tWO   hundred   were   white 
s,  known  as  Butler's   i  and  the  reaidne  In- 

dians, commanded  by  Brandt,  the  two  Button,  Grey,  I 
Johnaon,   and   McDonald,  were   be  ambled,   covered 

by  a  lengthy  breaatworfc,  rudely  constructed  of  logs  and 
felled  trees,  masked  with  pine  and  shrub-oak  hushes  stuck 

in  the  ground.    The  right  flank  of  this  work  wai 

by  the   riv<r.   and   on   their  left,  and   in   front,  Were  two 
sharp  ridges,  parallel  to  each  other,  oorered  with  partial 

of  Indians,  ready  to  fall    on    the   right    flank  and    rear  of 
Sullivan's  army,  when  it  had    \  led    a  Sufficient  dis- 

rithin  the  ambuscade.    lint  the  whole  was  eHaooY- 

in   sufficient   time  to  guard  against  any  dl 

results.     General  Poor  was  ordered  to  take  possession  of 

the   outer  ridge,  turn  the  enemy's  left   flank,  and  a 
18  L* 


284  APPENDIX. 

him  in  the  rear;  while  General  Hand,  aided  by  the  artil- 
lery, attacked  him  in  front.  General  Poor,  assisted  by 
General  Clinton,  pushed  his  column  up  the  hill,  the  van- 
guard of  which  was  led  by  Major  Van  Gampen,  driving 
the  Indians  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet  —  during  which 
time  a  sharp  conflict  along  the  whole  line  of  the  breast- 
work was  supported  well  on  both  sides.  But  the  enemy, 
observing  that  their  left  flank  was  entirely  exposed,  and 
that  they  were  in  danger  of  being  surrounded,  as  General 
Poor  was  proceeding  with  great  rapidity,  the  savages,  red 
and  white,  abandoned  their  breastwork,  and,  crossing  the 
river,  fled  with  the  utmost  precipitation. 

This  victory  cost  the  Americans  about  thirty  men. 
The  ascertained  loss  of  the  Indians  was  also  inconsider- 
able ;  but  they  were  so  intimidated,  that  they  fled  to,  and 
deserted  their  villages,  and  abandoned  the  idea  of  farther 
resistance. 

From  Xewtown,  the  army  marched  north,  between  the 
lakes,  to  the  Seneca  Eiver ;  and  detached  parties  were 
sent  from  their  encampment  in  every  direction,  overrun- 
ning and  laying  waste  the  Indian  settlements,  cutting 
down  their  orchards,  destroying  their  provisions  and 
crops,  killing  their  hogs,  cattle,  and  horses — in  short, 
applying  the  besom  of  destruction  to  everything  that 
could  afford  shelter  or  sustenance  to  man  or  beast.  If, 
indeed,  the  humane  feelings  of  the  Americans  employed 


APPENDIX. 

in  this  work  of  destruction  sometimes  prompted  them  to 

,t    their  own   dotructi.  ;  he  watchword — Wyo- 

ming, Cherry  Valley,  or  the  Mohawk  —  would  add  •  freak 
impulse  to  the  arm.  and  tunc  the  respiration  of  i  fanning 
breese  bo  the  faggot. 

4ft  r  finishing  their  labors  in  the  east,  the  army  pro- 

ceedcd  west,  for  the  purpose  of  closing  Its  onopp 

eareer  of  destruction  at  the  chief  village  of  the  Sen. 

Little  Beard's  Town,  lying  <>n  the  Genesee  River.    They 

•d  the  fooi  of  Canandaigna  Lake,  meting  out  i  full 

ore  of  destruction  and  desolation  on  the  village  and 

settlement  at  that  place,  as  well   as  on   the  village  at    the 

outlet  of  the  Boneoye,    On  their  arrival  at  the  head  of 
Concern  Lake,  within  eighl  or  nine  miles  of  Little  Beard'i 
Town,  they  encamped  on  the  ground,  now  known  a-  II. m- 
on'a  Flats. 
rly  in  the  evening,  a  party  of  twenty-one  men  •. 

detached,  and  sent  out  under  the  command  of  Lieutenant 

mpanied   by  a  faithful   Oneida  Indian   i 

guide,  for  the  purpose  of  reconnoitering  in  the  vicinity  of 

1..-       Bet  rd'i   Town.    Their  firs  I  point  of  destination  was 

an  Indian  villa-.-  on  the  Easl  side  of  Genesee   Etiver, 

ly  opposite  the  capital  of  th<  to  which  it 

a  kind  of  BUburb.      On  the  arrival  of  the  party  at  the 
Village,   they   found   that    it    had    been   lately  I  ■:.   as 

fires   in  the  huts  wen-  >till  burning.     Being  much 


2S6  APPENDIX. 

fatigued,  and  the  night  being  far  spent,  they  encamped 
for  the  residue  of  the  night  in  a  secluded  place  near  the 
village,  sending  two  of  their  number  back  to  the  main 
army  to  report.  In  the  morning  they  crept  from  their 
place  of  concealment,  and  discovered  two  Indians  hover- 
ing about  the  settlement,  one  of  whom  was  immediately 
shot  and  scalped  by  one  of  the  riflemen,  by  the  name  of 
Murphy.  Having  thus  exposed  their  presence  in  the 
place,  Lieutenant  Boyd,  concluding  that  any  further 
attempt  to  gain  information  would  not  only  be  useless, 
but  rashly  hazardous,  ordered  a  retreat  to  the  main  army. 

This  little  band  retraced  their  steps  until  they  arrived 
within  a  mile  and  a  half  of  the  camp,  when  they  were 
intercepted  by  a  party  of  observation  from  the  enemy's 
camp.  They  fought  desperately  and  rashly,  for  there 
was  no  chance  to  retreat.  The  result  was,  that  twelve 
were  killed,  including  their  faithful  guide.  Lieutenant 
Boyd  and  a  private  by  the  name  of  Parker  were  taken 
prisoners,  and  the  remaining  seven  made  their  escape  by 
flight  through  the  enemy's  ranks,  among  whom  was  the 
brave  but  incautious  Murphy.  The  dead  of  this  little 
heroic  band  were  left  on  the  ground  by  the  Indians, 
and  Lieutenant  Boyd  and  Parker  were  immediately  con- 
ducted to  Little  Beard's  Town. 

When  Lieutenant  Boyd  began  to  realize  his  situation 
as  a  prisoner  of  the  Indians,  he  solicited  an  interview 


APPENDIX. 

with  Brandt,  who,  ho  knew,  commanded  bis  oapi 

of  whose  eharaoter  be   had  received   some  Information. 

chief  immediately  presented  himself,  when  Lieuten- 

ant  Boyd,  by  one  of  those  appeals  which  an-  known  only 

to  those  who  hare  been  Initiated  and  duly  Instructed  in 

sin    mysteries,  and  which  will  never  fail    to  bring 

our  to  a  "  distressed  brother,"  addressed  him  as  the 

only  source  from  which  be  could  expert  a  respite  from 

cruel  punishment  or  a  lingering  and  painful  death.    The 

appeal  was  recognised,  and  Brandt  immediately,  and  in 

the  strongest  langi  sored  him  that  his  lit'. 

d.     Brandt,  however,  being  called  on  to  perform 
particular   service   which    required    a   few  hours 
ace,  left  the  prisoners  in  the  charge  of  the  British 
colonel,  Butler,  of  the  rangers. 

A-  soon  as    Brandt    had    left,  Butler  commenced   his 
inter  .  to  obtain  from  the  prison  katement 

of  the  number,  situation,  and  intentions  of  the  army  under 
I       ieral   Sullivan,  and  threatened,  in  case  they  lien- 
or prevaricated  in  their  snswers,  <<•  deliver  them  up  to 

-d  by  the    Indians,  who.   in    Brand'- 

and  with  the  encouragement  of  their  more  -  oom- 

.  B  Her,  were  ready  to  commit  the  greatest  cru- 
elties.    Belying,  probably,  on  the  promises  which  Brandt 

had   mad.-   them,  and   which   undoubtedly   he   intended   to 
fulfill,  they  refu.-ed  to  ghrc  Butler  the  desired  information. 


28S  APPENDIX. 

Butler,  upon  this,  hastened  to  put  his  threat  into  exe- 
cution. They  were  delivered  to  some  of  their  most  fero- 
cious enemies,  who,  after  having  put  them  to  the  most 
severe  torture,  killed  them  by  severing  their  heads  from 
their  bodies.* 

The  main  army,  immediately  after  hearing  of  the  dis- 
aster which  befell  Lieutenant  Boyd's  detachment,  moved 
on  toward  Genesee  River,  and  finding  the  bodies  of  those 
who  fell  in  Boyd's  heroic  attempt  to  break  through  the 
enemy's  ranks,  buried  them  on  the  battle  ground,  which 
is  now  in  the  town  of  G-roveland.  Upon  their  arrival  at 
the  Genesee  River,  they  crossed  over  and  found  Little 
Beard's  Town  and  all  the  adjacent  villages  deserted.  The 
bodies  of  Lieutenant  Boyd  and  Parker  were  found  and 
buried  in  one  grave,  near  the  bank  of  Little  Beard's 
creek,  under  a  clump  of  wild  plum  trees.  Mr.  Salmon  was 
one  who  assisted  in  committing  to  the  earth  the  remains 
of  his  friend  and  companion  in  arms,  the  gallant  Boyd. 

The  army,  having  scoured  the  country  for  many  miles 
up  and  down  the  river,  burning  all  the  Indian  villages, 
and  destroying  all  their  com,  hogs,  cattle,  and  other 
means  of  subsistence,  finally,  to  close  their  labors  of 
destruction,  applied  the  torch  to  the  ancient  metropolis 
of  the  Seneca  nation,  Little  Beard's  Town,  which  con- 
tained one  hundred  and  twenty-eight  houses. 

*See  Mrs.  Jemison's  account,  page  122. 


APPENDIX. 

White  Genera]  Sullivan  had  1h-.ii  laying 
Cayuga,  and  pail  of  the  Seneca  settlement,  the  western 
division  under  Colonel  Brodhead  marched  op  tin  Alle- 
ghany River  and  French  creek.    Here  too,  the  [ndiani 
totally  onable  to  reaisl  the  force  with  winch  they 
were   invaded.     After  one   onsnoceeatoJ   Bkirmiah,   they 
abandoned  their  village*  and  property,  and  fled  to  the 
da   for  pereonal   safety.    Oolonel  Brodhead,  ba 
•d  the  settlements  on   French  creek,   ascended  the 
Alleghany  to  (Mean  Point,  destroying  all  the  Indian  \il- 
a  oo  French  creek  and  on  the  Alleghany  Hirer;  and, 
rtaining  that  it  was  not  necessary  for  him  to  Join  the 
main  army,  he   returned  with  his   division  to    Pittsburgh, 

.  Buffalo  Creek,  and  Tonawanda 

tleim-nts  exempt  from  this  general  destruction. 

General  Sullivan,  with  the  main  army  and  the  eastern 

division,  having  destroyed  forty  Indian  villages,  (including 

\rd  by  Colonel  Van  Schaiok's  party,  and  the 

era  division  under  Colonel  Brodhead,)  one  hundred 

and   >i\ty  thousand   luishels   of  OOrh,    vast    quantith- 

I  i ,.!  other  vegetables,  a  great  Dumber  of  her 

ttle,   farming    utensils,  etc..  a'  rythlng   that 

:li  of  labor  "i-  produce  of  cultivation  —  I 
the  sanguinary  achievement  of  three  weeks  unmol< 
and  unremitting  employment  <>f  between  four  and 

thui^and  men  —  OOUntennarohedtO  Newtown,  has 


290  APPENDIX. 

absent  five  weeks ;  thence  past  Tioga  Point,  Wyoming, 
and  Easton,  to  New  Jersey,  where  he  went  into  winter 
quarters  ;  having  lost  but  about  forty  men  during  the 
whole  campaign,  either  by  sickness  or  the  fortunes  of  war. 


APPENDIX.  291 


III. 

REMOVAL  OF  THE  REMAINS  OF  BOYD. 

BY  BBBNBZBB    MIX,  l>a. 

In  the  year  1841,  some  gentlemen  in  Rochester,  and 
along  the  Genesee  Valley,  determined  to  pay  ■  tribute  of 
Bci  to  the  memory  <>f  Lieatenanl  Boyd  and  his  com- 
panions, who  fell  or  were  sacrificed  at    Little   Beard's 

Town   and  it*  vicinity,   during  General   Sullivan's   cam- 

d,  by  removing  their  remains  to  Rochester,  and  rein- 

terring  them,  with  appropriate  solemnities,  in  the  new 

v  al  Mount  1 1 « »i »« - . 

The  necessary  preparations  were  made,  by  disinterri 

the  remains,  depositing  them  in  the  capacions  urn.  and 

raising  a  large  mound  of  earth  over  tin-  grave  <•{"  Lmutrn- 

■  r  a  memorial.    On  the  twentieth  of  August, 

1841,  a  large  conoourse  of  people  assembled  at  tin*  vil- 

of  Cuyh-r,  among  whom  w<  i  Revolutioi 

patriots,  and  in  particular  Major  M        \  an  Campen,  and 
other  feUow-soldleri  who  were  with  Boyd  and  Ids  un- 
fortunate companions,  in  Sullivan's  army,  when  the  urn 


292  APPENDIX. 

containing  the  remains  was  removed  from  the  top  of  the 
mound,  under  convoy  of  a  military  escort,  composed  of 
several  independent  companies,  and  a  band  of  music  from 
Rochester,  to  Colonel  Cuyler's  grove,  near  the  village  of 
Cuyler,  where  a  pertinent  and  lucid,  historical  and  bio- 
graphical discourse  was  pronounced  by Treat,  Esq., 

after  which,  the  remains  were  escorted  to  Rochester,  by 
the  military,  music,  citizens,  etc.,  in  several  canal-boats. 
The  next  day,  the  remains  were  removed  from  the  city 
of  Rochester  to  Mount  Hope,  escorted  as  before,  and  at- 
tended by  His  Excellency,  Governor  Seward,  his  military 
suite,  and  an  immense  concourse  of  citizens.  After  an 
appropriate  address  by  His  Excellency,  and  an  appeal  to 
the  throne  of  Grace  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  E.  Tucker,  the  re- 
mains were  reinterred  by  the  military  with  the  honors 
of  war. 


APPENDIX. 


IV. 

THE  GENESEE  I  <  HJNTB1  As  it  was  AND  i>. 

i:\     BBBNBZBB    MIX.    B8Q. 

1  r  may  not  be  uninteresting  i"  ilic  readert  t<»  com] 
the  >tat<-  of  the  "Genesee  country  "  as  it  was  eighty-two 
yean  ago,  when  our  narrative  first  Introduced  as  into 
that  region,  with  what  it  is  now;  ami  view  tin-  c.ii>tra>t. 
Along  the  northern  border  of  the  district  referred  t<>, 
then  t<><>  rude  ami  desolate  even  for  an  Indian  resid< 
tin-  Erie  ('anal  now  winds  its  way,  floating  the  products 
of  the  fertile  regions  <>i"  the  west,  to  tin-  great  commercial 
emporium  of  the   nation;   and   returning   to   the   western 
■  olturists,  contributions  from  the  manufacturing  estah- 
lishmente  of  every  nation,  and  the  productions  of  the 
clime. 
Tin  Valley  ("anal,  now  being  constructed,  is 

in  a  forward  and  ;  -tate,  being  now  navigable 

from  Rochester  to  Mount  Morris.      'This  canal  i 

the   Brie  canal  at  Rochester,  up  the  west  bank  of 
i       (-Mr   Uiver,  and  <m  the  rn  margin  of  ii>  fl 

iville  —  near     Fowlers\ille    ami     <.<:.•- 


294  APPEXDIX. 

through  the  village  of  Cuyler,  and  past  Moscow,  to 
Squawkie  Hill  and  Mount  Morris,  having  passed  through 
the  ancient  sites  of  Cannewagus,  Bigtree,  Little  Beard's 
and  Squawkie  Hill  villages.  At  Squawkie  Hill  it  crosses 
Genesee  River  in  a  pond,  where  it  diverges  from  the 
river  and  pursues  its  course  through  the  village  of  Mount 
Morris,  and  up  to  the  valley  of  the  Canneskraugah  creek, 
to  the  Shaker  settlement,  in  the  town  of  Groveland; 
from  which  place  a  branch  canal  extends  along  the  val- 
ley of  the  Canneskraugah  to  Dansville — the  main  canal 
here  taking  the  valley  of  Cushaqua  creek,  converging 
again  toward  the  river,  passing  through  the  villages  of 
Nun  da  Valley  and  Messenger's  Hollow,  reaches  Genesee 
River  again  at  Portageville,  after  having  been  carried 
through  the  "  deep  cut,"  necessary  to  disengage  it  from 
the  valley  of  the  Cushaqua ;  and  the  Tunnel  upward  of 
sixty  rods  in  length,  through  the  ridge  of  rock,  mentioned 
in  Chapter  V,  page  87,  as  having,  according  to  conjec- 
ture, once  extended  across  the  river,  and  filled  its  present 
channels  above  the  upper  falls. 

At  Portageville  the  canal  is  taken  across  the  river  in 
an  aqueduct ;  it  then  traverses  the  western  bank  of  the 
river,  and  the  western  margin  of  the  flats,  passing  Mix- 
ville  within  half  a  mile  of  its  center,  from  which  is  con- 
structing a  navigable  feeder  into  the  canal ;  from  thence 
it  continues  along  the  western  margin  of  Canneadea  Flats, 


i .  N  1 1 1  X  . 

k  crrrk,  which   approaches  the  from  the. 

south-w<         The  canal  then  passes  np  the  vail,  y  of 
Black  creek,  to  the  summit  level  in  the  town  of  C 
thence  amis*  I lu*   summit  level,  about  two   miles  thn 
a   marsh,  to    the  water-  0  ;     thence   dowi 

y,  through  the  village  of  Onba,  to  Hinsdale,  at  the 
Junction  of  OD  and  [schna  creeks,  whence  the  stream 
mes  the  name  of  Olean  creek;  thence  down  the 
d  valley  to  the  village  of  Olean,  on  the  Alleghany 
river,  which  is  about  fourteen  miles  above  tin*  Indian 
village  of  Unawaumgwa  or  Tuneunguan,  Introduced  to 
our  readers  in  the  fourth  and  fifth  chapters,     it  U 

however  Unimportant  it  may  appear,  that  this  canal.  : 
D   to  Little   Heard's  Town,  follows,  with  no  ma'. 
deviation,  the  old  Indian  path,  or  trail,  which  Mar\   .1 
sen  traveled  nearly  a  century  ago,  when  she  first  I 
ishau. 

Although  the  wh«»!e  of  the  Genesee  country  Is   now 
red  with  groves,  orchards,  and  fields;  studded  with 

villa  its,  farm-ho  .  and  granai 

it  will  not  be  thought  invidious  t->  ]  arttanlarizc  tie-  p 
Ituatioo  of  the  localities  especially  ed  t«»  in 

The  ground  on  which  stood  the  great  metropolis  of  the 
Seneca — Little  Beard's  Town  —  la  now  con  verted  into 

fruitful  corn  and  wheat  lields ;  but  adjoining  is  the  village 


296  APPENDIX. 

of  Cuyler,  which  has  sprung  up,  as  it  were  by  magic, 
since  the  Genesee  Valley  Canal  became  navigable  to 
Mount  Morris.  The  village  of  Geneseo,  with  its  court- 
house and  other  county  buildings,  churches,  academies, 
and  elegant  private  mansions,  lies  about  three  miles  to 
the  north-east,  while  Moscow,  with  its  spacious  public 
square,  churches,  academy,  etc.,  lies  two  miles  to  the 
south-west.  The  sites  of  Bigtree  and  Cannewagus  vil- 
lages are  known  but  as  fertile  fields,  yielding  abundant  har- 
vests ;  while  on  the  east  side  of  the  Genesee,  near  Canne- 
wagus, is  the  pleasant  village  of  West  Avon,  and  the 
Avon  mineral  springs,  the  medical  properties  of  whose 
waters,  and  the  romantic  scenery  displayed  in  its  location 
and  environs,  render  it,  of  late  years,  a  desirable  retreat 
for  invalids  and  the  infirm;  and  a  fashionable  resort  for 
health  and  beauty.  The  old  encamping  ground  at  the 
"Big  bend  "  is  now  occupied  by  the  staid  business  village 
of  Batavia,  with  its  county  buildings,  five  churches,  female 
seminary,  etc. 

The  Tonawanda,  Tuscarora,  Cattaraugus,  and  Buffalo 
Creek  villages  are  still  occupied  by  the  remnant  of  the 
Senecas ;  but  Tonawanda  has  its  neighboring  villages  of 
Akron  and  Caryville  —  Tuscarora  its  Lewiston,  Cattar- 
augus its  Lagra'nge,  and  the  Buffalo  Creek  villages  are 
closely  bordered  by  the  city  of  Buffalo,  with  its  immense 
commerce,  and  all  the  various  component  parts,  with  the 


APPENDIX. 

useful  and  ornamental  appendages  whioh  constitute     i 
city.    Geneva  oooeupiei  1 1 1  *  *  ground  on  wbiefa  GK 
Sullivan  captured  a  village  containing  one  papa 
the  Bite  of  the  "Old  Castle »  i.  now  flanked  I    i 
Tin-  Sabbatioal  and  wealthy  Tillage  of  Ganandaigua,  with 
nt  public  and  private  edift  nds  in  bold  oon- 

■  with  the  midnight  pow-wov  I  ah  aan-dah-gwa, 
with  its  cluster  of  wigwams.  Dansville  takes  its  station 
M among  the  Slipperj  "  and  Impro  Ith  oom- 

aeali  its  manufacturing  facilities.  Although 
the  site  of  Squawkie  Hill  village  Is  used  for  agricultural 
purpoees  only;  in  its  vicinity,  on  tin-  ground  where  itood 

one   of  Ebenezer   or    Indian    Allen's    harems.  DOW    stands 

the  lively  and  pleasant  village  of  Mount  Rforris.    Above 
the  Portage  Kails  is  the  village  of  Portageville,  with  it> 
;   water-power,  and   numerous  factories,      Near  the 
site  of  the  Lower  Ganneadea  Indian  village  i>  the  village 
liwille,  with  its  church  and  other  public  buildings  — 
1  facilities  for  using  its  permanent  water-pow- 
er and  its  present  machinery  propelled  thereby.     The 
!i>  River  villages  are  still  occupied  by  the  Indians. 
.War  the  month  of  Allen1  ..  between  Mount  aCor- 

ad   Rochester,  where  stood   Indian   Allen's  other 
harem,  .standi   th.-   village  of  Soettavflle,  a  flourishing 

:      iness    place;     and    at     the     northern     succession 
.'.Is  on   tin-    '  B,  where  Allen   built   ; 


298  APPENDIX. 

apology  for  a  grist-mill  in  the  west,  now  stands  the  city 
of  Rochester,  with  all  its  superb  public  and  private  edi- 
fices, its  commerce  and  manufactures,  together  with  its 
hundred  run  of  stones  in  its  flouring-mills,  manufacturing 
more  flour  annually  than  is  produced  at  any  other  place 
on  the  globe. 

Some  idea  of  the  improvements  in  a  social  and  relig- 
ious point  of  view  which  have  taken  place  on  this  terri- 
tory within  less  than  thirty  years  may  be  drawn  from  the 
following  fact : 

In  the  year  1811,  there  was  standing  near  the  Caledo- 
nia Springs  a  wood-colored  house,  without  porch,  steeple, 
dome,  or  tower,  to  denote  its  use.  This  building  was  oc- 
cupied as  a  Scotch  Presbyterian  meeting-house;  and  it 
was  at  that  time  the  only  building  erected  or  exclusively 
used  for  Divine  Worship  in  the  State  of  Xew  York,  on 
or  west  of  Genesee  River,  although  the  territory  then 
contained  at  least  twenty-five  thousand  inhabitants. 

During  the  three  following  years,  this  territory  was 
the  scene  of  a  border  warfare,  in  which  no  age  or  sex 
was  exempt  from  slaughter,  and  no  edifice  too  sacred  for 
the  application  of  the  torch.  The  observance  of  the  Sab- 
bath was  merged  in  the  tumults  of  the  camp ;  and  the 
din  of  battle,  with  its .  martial  music,  usurped  the  place 
of  the  deep-toned  organ  and  the  harmonious  choir ;  while 
the  full  voice  of  the  commanding  chief  silenced  the  per- 


API'KXLIX. 

suasive  eloquence  of  the  apostolic  minister  —  the  messen- 
ger of  peace. 

This  territory  now  contains  two  Urge  cities,  and  is 
thickly  interspersed  with  thriving  villages;  —  the  cities 
contain  numerous  houses  for  public  worship;  each  vi. 
is  provided  with  from  one  to  live;  and  in  tlie  hack 
fanning  towns,  where  there  is  no  oompaci  settlement 
Berving  the  name  of  a  Tillage,  the  eye  of  the  traveler  will 
Boaroely  lose  Bighl  of  one  or  more  of  those  spires,  cupo- 
las, <»r  towers,  pointing  toward  the  sides,  emphatically 
proclaiming  to  his  mental  ear,  as  from  the  surrounding 
habitations,  "We,  too,  worship  God." 

19  M 


300  APPENDIX. 


V. 

INDIAN  GEOGRAPHICAL  NAMES,* 

IN  THE    STATE  OF  NEW  YORK. 


NUN-DA'-WA-O-NO'-GA. 

OR  THE  TERRITORY  OF  THE  SENECAS. 

SENECA  DIALECT. 

CHAUTAUQUE  COUNTY. 

ENGLISH  NAME.  INDIAN  NAME.  SIGNIFICATION. 

Dunkirk,  Gii-na'-da-wa-o,  Running  through  the  Hem- 

locks. 
Cattaraugus  Creek,  \  ^a-da'-ges-ga-o,       )  Fetid  B&nk3m 

(  Ga-hun'-da,f  ) 

Silver  Creek,  Ga-a-nun-da'-ta,  G.     A  mountain  leveled  down. 

Chautauque  Creek,     Gii'-no-wun-go,  G.      In  the  Rapids. 
Conewango  River,       Ga'-no-wun-go,  G       In  the  Rapids.  [locks. 

Canadawa  Creek,        Gii-na'-da-wa-o,  G.     Running  through  the  Ilem- 
Cassaclaga  Creek,        Gus-da'-go,  G.  Under  the  Rocks. 

Cassadaga  Lake,         Gus-da'-go.     Te-car- 

ne-o-di',f  Under  the  Rocks. 

Chautauque  Lake,       Cha-da-queh,  T.  Place  where  one  was  lost. 

Cattaraugus,  Ga'-da-ges'-ga-o,        Fetid  Banks. 

CATTARAUGUS  COUNTY. 

Alleghany  River         O-hee'-yo,  G.  The  Beautiful  River. 

Great  Valley  Creek,    O-da'-squa-dos-sa,  G.  Around  the  Stone.        [one. 

Little  Valley  Creek,    O-da'-squa-wa-teh'  G.  Small  Stone  beside  a  large 

*  From  The  League  of  the  Iroquois,  p.  465. 

f  Gd-hun' -da  and  Te-car-ne-o-di'  are  common  nouns,  signifjing,  the  former 
u  a  river,"  or  "  creek,"  and  the  latter,  "  a  lake."  They  are  always  affixed  hy  the 
Iroquois,  in  speaking,  to  the  name  itself. 


DIX. 


I 
' 

Burto 
Lin 

Kllit-uttville, 

Haak 

>> 

oil  Spru 
• 
Trail 


nn 
1 

II.-  - 


fog  < » I. 

I 
I' 


J    -    -  .-.!■  k,  Q.  |  ;  .  [ndian, 

i  .-\mi:i-.1u,      I.  ! 

Q-di-QUl,      H  icO  f'-»r  boldil 

•neh,  I       in. 

II'    -  Sun- 

1 ..   By tl     I 
L-no,  .  Spring. 

iili,  Bejond  to 

Oil. 
I».i  -u-de-bok-to,       At  the  B 

•BO,  W..-.i  -L'wtu-iic-vuh. 


ERIE  COUS 


Two  Sisters  C; 
l        M 

BOTtt  4< 

Buffido  " 

CajUgB  u 

Ellicott  M 

Grand  lal  i 

If  He 

•L-k, 

! 

Jo, 

k, 
WUliamsTiQe, 
1  QoQoir, 

Aki 

L 

Vil. 


I 

i.  <i.  [to,  G. 
■-o'-dii-na-^uk'- 
1  -nuii-dfh- 

Do'-sho-w.l),  (i. 

GS-da  -_r''!i,  o. 
Ga-dl  -yi-deh,  G. 
Gft-weh'-no-geh, 
Hi-nun '-no-ga-o,  G. 
De'-CK! 

Do  -aho-'weh,  T. 
i     •aho-weh, 
D  - 

iiC-O, 

Ta-HU!l'-lio-L'a-0, 

De'-On-gi 

'  •■!', 
T'-ki  .^uut, 

1 

ea-ga-o, 


Black 

Greek  of  the  Oat  Nation. 

.  in  the  Si. 
A  Mountain  flattened  dowab 

S] >lit tin^r  the  Fork. 
Through  the  1 1  ns9- 

Level  11'  . 
On  the  Island. 
Pull  of  B  I  Ilk. 

:ig. 

I :  iffido  Creek. 

do. 

A  i:  re, 

Ifanj  FaDa. 

Full  of  II  :k. 

•  ■i   IT  .  utet 

.or.) 
I  off       I 

BdL 
The  i 

r  .:  lioata, 

or  P 


302 


APPENDIX. 


ENGLISH  NAME. 

Tonawanda  Creek, 
Aliens  u 

Black  " 


INDIAN  NAME. 

Ta'-na-wun-da,  G. 
O'-at-ka,  G. 
Ja'-go-o-geh,  G. 


GENESEE  AND  WYOMING  COUNTIES. 

SIGNIFICATION. 

Swift  Water. 

The  Opening. 

Place  of  Hearing.    (This  is 

Feminine.) 
Place  of  Hearing. 
The  Great  Hearing  Place. 
Place  of  many  Trenches. 
By  the  Cedar  Swamp. 
By  the  Plains. 


Ya'-go-o-geh, 
Deo-on'-go-wii, 
Te-car'-da-na-duk, 
Ga'-swa-dak, 
Gau'-dak, 
Te-ca'-so-a-a, 
Gweh'-ta-a-ne-te- 
car'-nun-do-deh, 
Da-o'-sa-no-geh, 


Stafford, 

Batavia, 

Oakfield, 

Alabama, 

Caryville, 

Pine  Hill, 

Attica, 

Alexander, 

Wyoming, 

Pembroke, 

Le  Roy, 

Darien, 

Silver  Lake, 

Silver  Lake  Outlets,   Ga-na'-yat,  G. 

Caneadea  Creek,         Ga-o'-ya-dc-o,  G. 

Warsaw,  Chi'-nose-heh-geh, 

Tonawanda  Village,    Ta'-na-wun-da, 

Gardow,  Gii-da'-o, 


Pine  lying  up. 


The  Bed  Village. 

Place  without  a  Name. 
Te-car'-ese-ta-ne-ont,  Place  with  a  Sign-post. 
O-a'-geh,   [dil'-ne-o,  On  the  Boad. 
Te-car'-no-wun-na-    Many  Rapids. 

Place  of  Turkeys. 

Signification  lost. 


O-so'-ont-geh, 
Ga-na'-yat,  T. 


Same  as  Caneadea. 

On  the  Side  of  the  Valley. 

Swift  Water. 

Bank  in  Front. 


Genesee  River, 
Wiskoy  Creek, 
Black  Creek, 
Angelica, 
Caneadea, 


Caneadea  Creek,         Gii-o'-ya-de-o,  G 


Nunda, 
Wiskoy, 
O-wa-is-ki, 
Caneadea, 


ALLEGHANY  COUNTY. 

Gen-nis'-he-yo,  G.      The  Beautiful  Valley. 
O-wa-is'-ki,  G.  Under  the  Banks. 

Ja-go'-yo-gehr  G.       Hearing  Place. 
Gii-ne-o'-weh-ga-yat,  Head  of  the  Stream. 
Gii-o'-ya-de-o,  Where   the    Heavens   lean 

against  the  Earth. 
Where   the    Heavens    rest 

upon  the  Earth. 
Hilly. 

Under  the  Banks. 
Under  the  Banks. 
Where   the   Heavens  lean 
against  the  Earth. 


Nun -da '-o, 
O-wa-is'-ki, 
O-wa-is'-ki, 
Gii-o'-ya-de-o, 


APPENDIX. 


LIVINGSTON  <  OUN1  v. 


UI. 

■esua  Out! 
Hemlock  Lai, 

lock  Outlet, 

Mount  Morris, 

Dansville, 
Die, 

Lima, 
Avon, 
Caledonia, 

M  -  •  iw, 
Squawkie  Hill, 

Sito  of  Moscow, 
Little  Beard's  Town, 
Big  Tree  Village, 
Tuscarora  Village, 
Ganowauges, 
of  Dansville, 
Livonia, 
Site  of  Mount  Morris, 


tVE. 

-sos,  T. 

<;. 

.  -ii,  r. 
O-iieh  -i. 
■  -H, 
So-no'-jo-wau-ga, 

Ga-nus'-ga-go, 
De-o'-de-sote, 
-o, 
no'-waa-a 

De-o'-na-gii-no, 

■  ■h'-da-oi.- 
Da-yo'-it-ga-o, 

Ga-neh'-dii-on-tweh, 

De-o-nun'-du-_ 

Cu-un-do  -wa-na, 

O-hii'-gi, 

G;i-no'-wau-ge3, 

Ga-nus'-ga-go, 

De-o'-d.- 

So-no  -jo-wau-ga, 


iTiipN 


Among  the   Milkweed. 

II  II 

Burned. 

•nee  of  a 
:.«-ca  OUd  ) 

The  spring. 
■ '        .       ■  l       *. 
•'. 

[ed. 
Where  Hemlock  was  gpill- 
Where   the    I 

from  the  Hills. 
Where  Eemloek  was  spilled. 

Where  the  Hill  is  near. 

A  Big  Tree. 

Crowding  the  Bank. 

Fetid  Wati 

Among  the  Milkweed. 

The  Spring. 

Big  K 


MONROE    COUNTY. 


it  Bay, 

Salmon  I'r.rk, 
Creek, 

Dooeoye  Greek, 

Roch<  - 

I 

i  ille, 


•  u-<*n-<L-quat, 
Ga'-doke-ua,  G. 

U-neh  -chl-geh,    0. 

II I  -ne  1  yah,  G. 

Gweh  -taane ••■ 

inm-do  -tell, 
-ka, 


!  all  J,  n 

rio  Trail,  [Bend,  K< 
Indian  Village  at  I  -de-hok-lo, 


A  Bay. 

Minnows. 

ago. 

r  Lying. 
At  Uf   Delft 

Bed  v :.'  i 

The  Opening.  (Same  as  Al- 
len*! Creek,  i    [etrnetion. 
Kails  rebounding  hum  an  ob- 
Onta:  ath. 

A  !'•• 


304 


APPENDED. 


ORLEANS  AND  NIAGARA  COUNTIES. 

ENGLISH  NAME.  INDIAN   NAME.  '■'■  ICATION. 

Oak  Orchard  Creek,    Dii-gc-a'-no-gii-unt,  G.  Two  Sticks  coming  together. 
Johnson's  Creek,         A-jo'-yok-ta,  G.  Fishing  Creek. 

Eighteen  Mile  Creek,  Date-ge-a'-deha-nii- 

geh,  G.  Two  Creeks  near  together, 

fuscarora  Creek, 

"   East  Branch,     Te-car'-na-ga-ge,  G.   Black  Creek. 
"   West  Branch,  De-yo'-wuh-ych,  G.    Among  the  Reeds,  [burned. 

Place    where    Boats   were 
One  Stream  crossing  anoth- 
er. (Aqueduct  on  Canal.) 
Place  with  a  Sign-Post. 
The    Spring.  (Referring  to 

the  Cold  Spring.) 
Place  of  the  Butternut. 
On  the  Mountains.      [Neck. 
Supposed  from  O-ne'-ah.  A 
Signification  lost. 
Same  as  Youncrstown. 


The    "Beautiful   Lake." 
(This  is  a  Mohawk  word, 
and  Ontario  is  a  deriv- 
ative.) 

The  Highest  Falls. 

M  U  U 

On  the  Mountains. 

Taking  Canoe  out.  (Carry- 
ing Place  at  the  mouth  of 
Tonawanda  Creek.) 


Albion, 

De-o'-wun-dake-no, 

Medina, 

Date-geh'-ho-seh, 

Middleport, 

Te-ka'-on-do-duk, 

Lockport, 

Be-o'-do-sote, 

Royalton  Center, 

O-ge-a'-wa-te-kii'-e, 

Lewiston, 

Ga'-a-no-geh, 

Youngstown, 

Xe-ah'-ga,  [on-da,  G 

Golden  Creek, 

Bate-keh'-neet-ga- 

Niagara  River, 

Xe-ah'-gii,  G. 

Lake  Ontario, 

Xe-ah'-gii,  T. 

The  word  Ontario, 

Skii-no'-da-ri-o,  T. 

Niagara  Falls, 
Niagara  Tillage, 


Date-car'-sko-sase, 
Date-car'-sko-sase, 


Tuscarora  Indian  Yil.  Ga'-a-no-geh, 
Seneca  Indian  Yil.      Ga-u'-gweh, 


'VYAYNE   AND    ONTARIO    COUNTIES. 
Mud  Creek,  Gii-na-gweh,  G.  Same  as  Palmyra. 

Flint  Creek,  Ah-ta'-gweh-dii-ga,  G.  [tlement. 


Canandaigua,  Ga'-nun-da-gwa, 

Canandaigua  Outlet,  Ga'-nun-da-gwa,  G. 

Canandaigua  Lake,  Gii'-nun-da-gwa,  T. 

Hemlock  Outlet,  O-neh'-dii,  G. 

Honeoye  Lake,  ITa'-ne-a-yeh,  T. 


A  Place  selected  for  a  Set- 


Hemlock. 
Finger  Lying. 


APPENDIX. 


:,u.-, 


BCLISH   NAME. 


I  ce,  T. 

.     - 


little  Sodui  l: .  -ke-a'-o 


Pal  1 1.' 

v.i, 

ike, 

W  :..ld, 

>r, 

Cananda:. 
Victor, 


Gi«nun  - 

l 

(Ja-nun  -da-ok, 
Nun  -<!.i-w 

Ga-non  •di-ea-ga, 
Nnn'-da-e 


I  •        I 

. 

Settlement  Village. 
Village  <>u  tii.  .  mil. 

In  tin-  l>as>\v 

Greet  Hill. 

Settlement  Vi:: 
raddenly  ■prang  up. 

Iu  the  P»a»>\vood  Couuti  v. 

Great  Hill. 


FATES,  STEUBEN,  AND  CHEMUNG  COUNTIES. 


Crooked  1 


0-gO  -\;t 


Promontory  pi  into 

the  Lei 


u    Outlet,  O-go'-vii-ga,  G.  "  M 

Conhocton  River,  Gii-ha'-to,  <i.  A  Log  in  the-  Wei 

Chemung  Hirer,  Ga-hA'-to,  O.  "         " 

■  o  Kivi-r,  Tr-  -t<--o,  c,.  Board  <>n  the  W;r 

Hath,  Do-na'«ti-gwen-da,  Opening  in  tn  Opening. 

Pain*  Te-cer  ■naeo-to-o-ah,  a 

Lhnira,  Skwe  -do-\s.i,  it  Plain. 


GrWE-U  -GWEH-O-NO  -<;a. 

01    tiik    TBBBITOBT    OP  Tin:    <    LYUGA8. 


PARTLY  CAY1  GA  AND  PARTI  V 


i  Point, 
[the 

Canoga, 


1 

Gwe-a  'gweh,  T. 

I  '  WtD    -dote', 

l     do  -geh, 


Cavugu  Bridge,  War 


At  tl. 

At  tin-  Heed  of  th.'  Lake. 

i 

i  nt  Dawn. 

Oil  Floating  on  tin.  '« 

A  Long  Bridge. 


306 


APPENDIX. 


ENGLISH  NAME. 

Montezuma, 
How-land's  Island, 
Waterloo, 
Seneca  River, 

Clyde  River, 

Auburn, 
Otter  Lake, 
Muskrat  Creek, 
Owasco  Outlet, 
Owasco  Lake, 
North  Sterling  Creek, 
Sodus  Bay  Creek, 
Site  of  Canoga, 
Site  of  Union  Springs, 
Above  Lockwoods 

Cove, 
Site  of  Ithaca, 


INDIAN'  NAME. 

Te-car'-jik-ka'-do, 
Ga-weh'-no-wii-na, 
Skoi'-yase, 
Swa'-geh,  G. 

Ga-na'-gweh,  G. 

Was '-co, 
Squii-yen'-na,  T. 
Squa-yen'-na,  G. 
De-a-go'-ga-ya,  G. 
D was' -co,  T. 
Dats-ka'-ke,  G.    [G. 
Te-ga-hone'-sa-o'-ta, 
Ga-no'-geh, 
Ge-wa'-ga, 

Ga-ya'-gji-an'-ha, 
Ne-o'- dak-he '-at, 


SIGNIFICATION. 

Place  of  Salt. 

Great  Island. 

Place  of  Whortleberries. 

Flowing  Out.     (Some  doubt 

about  the  Signification.) 
River  at  a  Village  suddenly 

sprung  up. 
Floating  Bridge. 
A  great  way  up. 

"      "  [ed. 

Place  where  Men  were  kill- 
Lake  at  the  Floating  Bridge. 
Hard  Talking. 
A  Child  in  a  Baby  Frame. 
Oil  on  the  Water. 
Promontory  running  out. 

Inclined  downward. 

At  the  End  of  the  Lake. 


O-NUN'-DA-GA-O-NO'-GA, 

OR   THE    TERRITORY   OF   THE   OXOXDAGAS. 

ONONDAGA  DIALECT. 


Susquehanna  River,   Ga-wa-no-wa'-na- 
neh,  G. 


Great  Island  River. 
Where  the  Valley  widens. 


Owego,  Ah-wa'-ga, 

Owego  Creek,  Ah-wa'-ga,  G.  " 

Cortland,  O-nan'-no-gi-is'-ka,   Shagbark  Hickory. 

Homer,  Te-wis'-ta-no-ont-sa'- 

ne-a-ha,  Place  of  the  Silver  Smith. 

Owasco  Inlet,  Ka'-na-ka'-ge,  G.       Black  Water. 

Tionghinoga  River,  O-nan'-no-gi-is'-ka,  G.  Shagbark  Hickory. 

ONONDAGA  COUNTY. 

Tully  Lake,  Te-ka'-ne-a-da'-he,  T.  A  Lake  on  a  Hill. 

Tully,  Te-ka'-ne-a-da'-he,  "  " 

Apulia,  O-nun'-o-gese,  Long  Hickory. 


APPENDIX. 


Wl 


ESGL1M  liHI. 

Bkaa  tfc '.  -  L>ka, 

OlJ5- 


.  r. 


I 

Pompey  Hill, 

:  Hill, 

Onondaga  Hollow, 

'.lua, 
N 

■ 
I 

.' 

Joni 

I 
Fort  >n, 

.  i  Outlet, 

Liver; 

k, 

<a, 

Jamesvi: 
LhaeHoM  Obeek, 

'.teville, 

Christian  Hollow, 


TIOV. 

and 
Wind  Mill. 

Oall     B 

A    11  i:n:-.  !.-j. 

T  -ii.i-heu  -wh.i.Turn:  the  Yal- 


1 

IV -Li  •« 

O-nu 


i.  G. 
O-yi  - luin, 

Ha-nan  -I  >,  Q. 
H;i-lian  -l't, 

-  .  •.  T. 

.  -quit, 

Tun-da-'  I 
<i;t-ntm-t.i  -ah,  T. 

.-jik-ha  -do, 

i  -dunk, 


•to, 

1 1    -  -  ■    ,  - 1 

•-hf, 
(HUcl 

. 

-no  -pa, 

De-o'-nake-hus'-aink,  \-  .  ■:  Clean 
M* 


Butteruul  i. 

Applet  BpUt  Open. 

SheIC  [ter. 

I  Hemlock  lini!'.^>  :.  W.i- 

M   [ter. 

1 1 

tioll 
A    I  .  .  :,}). 

Thrown  Out. 

1  ouncil  ft 
Place  of  Salt. 

Pine   i  Top 

ha:  am. 

...  '•  •    W    . 

[rise*, 
leuly 
do. 
IitrblftlT 

lug. 
A   1! 


308 


APPENDIX. 


ENGLISH  XA>re.  IXDIAX  XA1TE.  SIGXIFICATIOX. 

Onondaga  Castle,        Ka-na-tii-go'-wii,  Signification  lost. 
Four  Miles  East  of 

Castle,  Tu-e-a-das'-so,  Hemlock  Knot  in  the  Water. 

Site  of  Onondaga 

Hollow,  Gis-twe-ah'-na,  A  Little  Man. 

Three  Miles  South  of 

Onondaga  Castle,    Xan-ta-sa'-sis,  Going  partly  round  a  Hill. 

OSWEGO  AND  JEFFERSON  COUNTIES. 

Oswego,  Swa'-geh,  Flowing  out. 

New  Haven  Creek,     Ka-dis-ko'-na,  G.  Long  Marsh. 
Little  Salmon  Creek,  Ga-nun-ta-sko'-na,  G.  Large  Bark. 

Grindstone  Creek,       He-ah-ha'-whe,  G,  Apples  in  Crotch  of  Tree. 

Ga-hen-wa'-ga,  G.  A  Creek. 
Gii-hen-wa'-ga,  " 

Te-ka'-da-o-ga'-he,  G.  Sloping  Banks. 
De-a'-wone-da-ga- 

han'-da,  Signification  lost. 

GiL-hu'-a-go-je-twa-  Fort  at  the  Mouth  of  Great 
da-a'-lote,  Biver. 


Big  Salmon  Creek, 
Pulaski, 
Sandy  Creek, 
Grand  Island, 

Sackets  Harbor, 


O-NA'-YOTE-KA-O-XO'-GA, 

OR    ONEIDA    TERRITORY 


OXELDA  DIALECT. 


St.  Lawrence  Biver, 
Black  Lake, 
Oswegatchie  River, 
Ogdensburgh, 
Black  River, 
Watertown, 
Beaver  River, 
Deer  Creek, 
Moose  River, 

Otter  Creek, 
Indian  River, 


Gii-na-wa'-ga,  G. 
Che'-gwa-ga,  T. 
O'-swa-gatch,  G. 
O'-swa-gatch, 
Ka-hu-ah'-go,  G. 
Kii-hu-ah'-go, 
Xe-ha-sa'-ne,  G. 
Ga-ne'-ga-to'-do,  G. 
Te-ka '  -hun-di-an'- 

do,  G. 
Da-ween-net,  G.  > 
O-je' -quack,  G. 


The  Rapid  River. 

In  the  Hip. 

Signification  lost. 
(i  u 

Great  or  Wide  River. 

"  [ber. 

Crossing  on  a  Stick  of  Tim- 
Corn  Pounder. 

Clearing  an  Opening. 
The  Otter. 
Nut  River. 


APPENDIX. 


309 


N  I  V. 


ENGLISH  3AMK. 

above 
Berirfn 

■ 

-  I  took, 

West  Canada  < 

and  Mohawk  I 

Trenton  1 

Utica, 

Wbitoetown  C: 
Wbitoetown, 

k, 
my, 
Hill, 
Clinton, 

Id, 
Vernon, 
Vernon  Center, 
Oneida  C: 
na, 

Mile  Creek, 
len, 

pot, 
New  Hart: 

amden, 


IM'M.S   N  ui:. 
H 

I  -a-I.i  -hah-,  T. 

i,  I ; . 

d  -no-ui-go'- 

T.'-al. 

-'."-:i  -daijue, 

Date-wi  -sont-l 

Non-d 

Che-g 

u 

Ole'-bisk,  G. 

M 

Gli-nun-do'-gl 
Ka-  : 

Ska  -na  -sunk, 
Skun-an-d" 

— a-lo -ha. 
Te-o-na  -tale, 

-nun'-sok 
il.    -ta-vuu  -tw.i, 
De-o  /  iat, 

•>-a-lo  -hal.-, 

Ho  Bti-yan'.-ii 

.  <  I . 
,ue, 


>n  lust. 

A  lh  .i  l  on  i  P 

At  the  Forks. 
In  tl. 

Qe. 
Around  the  Hill. 

Kith; 

ii 

Nettl 
I. 

Hills  shrunk  together. 
White  Field. 
A  long  Swamp. 
Place  of  th.-  Fox. 
ll  H-'in!ock. 

Hood  on  a  Pole. 

Pine  For 
A  Beecl 

big  Lo:»t. 
Where  the  Cars  go  fast 

KJODi 

vr. 
Empty  Vi D 


MADISON  AND  <  IIKNAXGO  COUNTIES. 


-tola, 

Lenox, 


Ska-waii  -Li, 


alone. 
A  Point  made  bv  Hushes. 


310 


APPENDIX. 


ENGLISH  NAME. 

Caneseraga  Creek, 

Chittenango  Creek, 
Chittenango, 
Cazenovia  Lake, 
Cazenovia, 
Hamilton, 

Unadilla  River, 
Chenango  River, 
Sherbum, 
Norwich, 
Oxford, 

Biughampton,    [Yil. 
Stockbridge  Indian 


INDIAN  NAME. 

Ka-na'-so-wa'-ga,  G. 

Chu-de-naang',  G. 

Ah-wa'-gee,  T. 
Ah-wa'-gee, 
Da-ude'  -no-sa-gwa- 

nose, 
De-u-na'-dil-lo,  G. 
O-che-chang,  G, 
Ga-na'-da-dele, 
Ga-na'-so-wa'-di, 


SIGNIFICATION. 

Several  Strings  of  Beads 

with  a  String  lying  across. 

Where  the  Sun  shines  out. 
ii  u 

Perch  Lake. 


Round  House. 
Place  of  Meeting. 
Bull  Thistles. 
Steep  Hill. 
Signification  lost. 


So-de-ah'-lo-wa'-nake,  Thick-necked  Giant. 
O-che-nang',  Bull  Thistles. 

Ah-gote'-sa-ga-nage,  Meaning  lost. 


GA-NE-A'-GA-O-NO'-GA, 

OR    MOHAWK    TERRITORY 

MOHAWK  DIALECT. 


West  Canada  Creek,  Te-uge'-ga,  G. 


Mohawk  River, 

Herkimer, 

Little  Falls, 

Port  Plain, 

Canajoharie  Creek, 

Canajoharie, 

Johnstown, 

Fonda, 

Fort  Hunter, 

Schoharie  Creek, 

Schoharie, 


G. 

u 

Tii-la-que'-ga, 

Twa-da-a-la-ha'-la, 

Ga-na-jo-hi'-e,  G. 
ii 

Ko-la-ne'-ka, 
Ga-na-wii'-da, 
Te-on-da-lo'-ga, 
Sko-har'-le,  G. 


At  the  Forks. 


Small  Bushes. 
Fort  on  a  Hill. 
Washing  the  Basin. 

Indian  Superintendent. 
On  the  Rapids.  [er 

Two  Streams  coming  togeth 
Flood-wood. 


[G. 


East  Canada  Creek,  Te-car'-hu-har-lo'-da,  Visible  over  the  Creek. 

Otsquago  Creek,  O-squa'-go,  G.  Under  the  Bridge. 

Amsterdam  Creek,  Ju-ta-la'-ga,  G.  Signification  lost. 

Garoge  Creek,  Ga-ro'-ga,  G.  " 


aiti:si>ix. 


mi 


E 

my, 

: 
1 

plain, 

. 
Lake  E 

!  . 

B  i   i ; 
Bl    B 

Lirer, 


IM'JiV    NAMI. 

1 

-neh-ta  - 

-:irh-U  -■: 

.t-i>o9e, 

I 

R'liar- 

•Bl  - 

ae,  0. 

Ah-tjua-.- 


in  the  n 

ing«. 
41 


l-Wa  -dell,  G.       Swill  v. 


GOUHTHEfl  BOUTH  OF  THE  MOHAWK* 

ike,  Otc-sa'-ga,  T.  loat. 

I  iWB,  "  u 

Delaware  i. 
Cobus  Hill, 
New  York, 
Long  Islam], 


Ska-hun-do'-wa,  G.     In  th 

.-!-•  -ge,  MfiBBJBg  lost. 

i  -no,  M 

1 1  .  --.va-nase-geh,         A  Loog  Island.     (Oneida 

dial 
O-jik'-ha  da-g  U  Water. 


Atlantic  Ocean, 
Upper  Mohawk  Cas- 
tle, -ue'-ga-hii'-ga,        Possessor  of  the  Flint 
Middle  Mohawk  Cas- 

tfft,  Gii-najo-hi  -l',  WtjhJDg  the  Basin. 

I  diawk  0  ■  [it. 

T<  -ah-tou-ta-lo  -ga,    TwoS  •jtuing  togcth- 


CAHADA. 

K   -  .  >us. 

Aim 
I 

JOHM  -i'  h 

Grand  Ilrver,  ,  0.  Flo 

17,         Dc-o-na  -:a-dc  -o,      Where  th  uuaBar. 


312 


APPENDIX. 


ENGLISII     NAMB. 

Queenstown, 


INDIAN  NAME. 

Do-che'-hk-o', 


SIGNIFICATION. 

Where  the  Mountain  dies  in 
the  River. 
Hamilton,  De-o-na'-sii-de'-o,       See  above. 

Toronto,  De'-on-do,  Log  floating  upon  the  Water. 

Brock's  Monument,     Gus-ta'-ote, 
Chippeway,  Jo-no' -dak,  Signification  lost. 

PENNSYLVANIA . 

Erie,  Gus-ha'-wa-ga,  On  the  Body. 

Cornplanter's  Village,  De-o-no'-sa-da-ga,      Burned  Houses. 


History  of  Indian  Wars  and  Captivities. 

FROST  AND  DRAKE'S 

INDIAN  WARS  AND  CAPTIVITIES 

OF  Til  E   UNITE]  >  STATES: 

If  I  K 

Early  Indian  Wars  of  the  Colonies  and  the  Revolution, 
kin.;  run. it's  wak,  THE  PBSNCB  and  Indian  (TABS,  i  hi:  VOKEB 

...N    WAK,    BLACK    HAWK    \V  A  K,  BKM  I  N  I  I  LI    U 


mm  with 


INDIAN     CAPTIVITIES; 

mm  n\  oroAitiTM  wbo  bati  d  awat  dv  no 

IM'IANS    rSOM     TI.  SB    .-KTTI.KMKNTS  Off    TBI    OKI 

FROM  Kl  BABLfBBf  PBUOB  To  THE  MtffJUBf  TIMK. 

BY  J0II1I  FROST AJTD  SAMUEL  0.  DRAKE. 

One  Volume,  670  pp.  8vo.,  200  Engravings.    Price  $2  50. 

►♦-. 

Contents  of  " Indian  Wai>."* 

Early  Indian  Wars  in  Florida — The  Indian  Wars  of  the  Colonies  of 

-..'.:>> — Early  Indian  Wan  of  Hew  England — King  Philip*!       .  

•  William's  War — The  Wan  of  the  Five  Nations — Indian  Wars  in 
-  to  the  Revolution — Q  War — 1. 

War — Ti.  i  and  Indian  War,  from  1764  to  1759 — The 

i  the  Western  Indians,  from  1769  to  11 

War — Indian  Wars  of  the  Revolution — 11m  War  with  ti 
of  ti  bington'l   Administration — The  T 

tan  War  of  1819  and  1813— The  Creek  War— 
ffl   irof  lS16and  1817— Blank  Hawk's  War— Tii 
War — Indian  Bottiliti  •  and  New  Mniffl — The 

MmaippL 
Contents  of  ''Indian  Captivities." 

/ — Marv  Rowlandaon,  Quintin  5 

■ 

■     Wiu.  llubLn.il  —  M:.- 
I.   W.   15.    1 

MILLER,  0RT0K  k  MULLIGAN,  PubU  I 


EXCITING  ADVENTURES 


OF 


THE  AUSTRALIAN  CAPTIYE, 


OR,  15  YEARS  ADVENTURE  OF  WM.  JACKMAN. 

Including  his  Residence  among  the  Cannibals  of  Nnyts 

Land,  with  Portaits  and  other  Illustrations.     Edited 

by  Rev.  I.  Chamberlain.  Muslin,  392  pp.  12mo. 

Price  81,25. 

^ »  »  »»» 

Notices  off  the  Press— Erieff  Extracts. 


The  glowing  accounts  from  this  new  Ophir  have  been  so  -well  authenticated  that  the 
statements  in  this  volume  will  gain  ready  credence. — Rochester  Democrat. 

This  is  a  neat  volume  of  some  400  pages,  containing  a  new  chapter  in  the  history  of 
adventure;  the  hero  being  the  first  civilized  man  who  ever  returned  from  a  forced  and 
lengthened  residence  among  the  anthropophagi  of  New  Holland,  and  told  the  story  of  what 
be  eaw  and  suffered. — Rural  New  Yorker. 

lie  give?  a  most  glowing  account  of  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  barbarous  people 
among  which  his  lot  was  cast. — Republican.  Advocate. 

If  our  readers  will  procure  a  copy  of  it,  they  will  be  able  to  ascertain  the  means  em 
ph  yi  i  toeffe.r-t  his  wonderful  escape,  and  the  many  dangers  to  which  he  was  exposed. — 
ihilario   Whig. 

MILLER,  011TOX  k  MULLIGAN,  Publishers, 
25  Park  Row  New  York,  and  lifj  Genesee  st,  Auburn. 


